


Into you

by mrbrighteyes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bodyguard Liam, M/M, Pop Star Harry Styles, Teacher Liam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-09-30 09:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 41,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10160561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrbrighteyes/pseuds/mrbrighteyes
Summary: “I’m not a hero Harry.”“You are though, to me you are.”Liam doesn’t know what to say to that. He thinks it best to keep quiet, so he keeps quiet. He thinks it best to stop replaying the word hero in his mind, but it doesn’t stop.“And I know it’s selfish, but I wanted you to stay that.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have another on going lirry but this one came while I was wrapping up the last chapter for the other one and I've been on it for months now. There'll only be five parts to it, three are all done, the fourth one is half done. I hope you enjoy this, it's been fun writing it with the little of spare time I have, which is almost non existent these days. I'll try to keep updates as consistently as possible.

Here is the thing. Liam loves fighting. 

There’s no secret behind it, no witchcraft, no traumatism that led him to this conclusion. He just loves it, period. The way the bag swings and comes back with enough force to have him brace and throw another one. 

He’s all for that, he wouldn’t be the man that he is if this gloves didn’t exist and he wouldn’t be the fighter that he is if he didn’t love every rocking minute of it. He’s always made sure to live by that too, do what you love and don’t let money or fame ever get to you.

There’s no way of ever finding any sort of happiness doing something just for how much cash it can lend you, is there? So, that is also why, while Liam loves boxing more than anything else. His career has never found a peak, in fact, it’s never even touched the root of what fame most boxers seem to meet. 

His choices had been simple, fake matches. Lose some, win some. Things he didn’t sit well with. Because if he went in to fight, he wanted to lose because his opponent had bested him and win because he’d been the best. Not because someone with enough cash to propel him higher than he could ever imagine was asking him to.

His coach was of another opinion of course. At twenty, it was the best time to finally make one decision. You stay in this choice of career or you do something else of your pitifully miserable and honourable life. It’s easy to see now, which one Liam took. He tells people fighting is a hobby when he’s asked, and he now sits or stands behind a desk, or in front of a chalk board and tries to teach adults who for whatever reasons could not finish their studies how to cope with life. 

Twenty-five is apparently, enough of an age to know about these things.

Liam would be lying if he said that he didn’t find this boring. Every day the same routine. Wake up, jog, get the plan ready for the day. A curriculum that made him yawn from the first year, now into his second one. He’s still doing it though, because surprisingly, he’s good at it. He never thought he’d ever be any good at anything but fighting. But Liam’s good at teaching. So then why not be a coach as well? Question everyone around him asked.

The answer’s simple to himself, he wouldn’t want to put dreams in someone else’s heart the way they’d been put in his. Only to watch it all go to flames if they’re not ready to sell out the way Liam did. Then, they’d ask, _what if they wanted to though_? Another easy answer. Then Liam would feel guilty and responsible and disappointed. There was no way to win in something that he took so much pride in being belittled and jostled about as if it didn’t matter.

The world’s that now though, is it not? No matter what career path you choose, and who you want to be. At one point or another, there’ll be that obstacle to pass through. Higher powers who want you to either eat in the palm of their hands or crumble in their fists. So, the bottom line is, Liam loves fighting. But he gave up on it and assumed it would stay that way. Put on the side, with fists only reserved for sparing partners as well as a very lovely punching bag.

Hence why this current situation is a bit frustrating and yet thrilling because he hasn’t had a serious real fight in years. Five long fucking years and here he is. He’s feeling rusty, a bit. As if his bones might crack every time his fists manage to catch on someone’s jaws. In all honest, he might have forgotten how rough this was on his knuckles. 

All of it leaves him a bit breathless by the end of it. Sitting on the cold surface of the ground and his palms bruised from the granite where he’s been thrown too many times and had to catch himself. He feels old, yet he hasn’t even reached thirty. 

He knows Louis would laugh at him for that though. Panting like a beginner because he’s just put down three almost bigger than his size, but not tougher. He’ll take a bit of credit and say that he might have lost a bit of the edge he had, but it does not mean that some simple goons can take him down so easily.

So yeah, he’s panting, out of breath. Completely confused as to why he even got involved in this. All he knows he remembers doing is asking what the problem was. That was his first mistake. But was he supposed to see three people cornering someone else in a dark alley and do nothing about it just because he wanted to not get in trouble and simply listen to his Michael Jackson playlist quietly on his way home? 

Louis would say yes, Niall would be adamant that he should have called the police.

Reason why neither of them are Liam and Liam asked the question and then received the loud, threatening clear, “ _Mind your own business_.”

Niall’s idea is coming to him after the scramble, or what would have been Niall’s idea at least. The police, he should call the police. 

He’s also doing that when a barely audible, “Oh god.” Reminds him that someone else is there. Someone else who Liam hopes would have been able to get out of this without his help if Liam had been too late to get here, or if he’d already passed before the altercation was happening.

There’s a shiver at the thought that they might not have been able to. That they could have been left there, to the mercy of fists that Liam can still feel against his sides and a bleeding nose he will watch turn purple and black during the following week. 

The worry is instant and Liam’s turning, but the line also picks up and he’s forced to keep his eyes on the hunched figure without being able to offer any comfort while he gives the police a clear statement.

“Connor street, yeah. Three blokes might need an ambulance and handcuffs.” He throws a joke in, just to get something less sinister about the whole thing. “I wasn’t the victim, but they’re here with me and safe and sound.”

They say thirty minutes is what it’ll take for an ambulance and a patrolling car to get there and the call is made and cut.

Liam’s barely gotten out a “Hey, are you o—” When he hears shuffle, cursing and then he figures, of course, he’s no Rambo. They might have been knocked down, but it didn’t mean that they were dead, unconscious and unable to get to their feet. He’s only human, flesh and bones and they’re running when he turns around to get a look.

So much for playing hero.  

“There goes my medal.” Liam mumbles under his breath. Even if he’s sure they don’t hand out medals for little things like that. But it would have been nice to find police cars coming and finding three unconscious bodies instead of well—the nothing that is there right now. But then he’s got no time to focus on that, not with the tug he feels on his sleeve and the hand that’s tight around his wrist mere seconds later.

“Thank you.” It’s as meek as the first sound was. Liam nods his head, knows he will regret the ache in his knuckles and practically everywhere on his body later. But for now, it seems at least that one good thing came out of the night. One very important thing. Someone’s life might have been saved. That’s worth any medals if you asked him.

“Help will be here soon.” Now Liam’s sitting down, almost mirroring the same position that the figure has. What he can make out is hair, a lot of it. But he’s not even sure if that’s really what it is, it’s a bit too dark but his eyes are adjusting the more he focuses. The face’s buried behind hands and Liam won’t sweat in trying to figure out who the hell this is.

He gets an, “Okay.” From the stranger, though, and that leaves them here, waiting for the sirens.

* * *

 

The first question Liam gets the next morning in class is, “Did you get mobbed?” 

He laughs it off, shakes his head. He wants to brag about playing hero, but then he remembers that he’s been told to not talk about this. For reasons that he’s still failing to understand. Apparently, which is still a surprise to Liam. The person he saved would be in big trouble if any of this was leaked, any of it at all. So, Liam was to keep his mouth shut about the matter. Easy enough. Except that now he must make up stories each time he’s asked about the bruises.

He’s not good at lying—alright, maybe decent. But he doesn’t like it. There’s a reason why he’s writing on a chalkboard and not fighting in a ring right now, alright. It wasn’t to fall right back into what he refused to do for something he loves more than anything in the world. Almost anything. So, it burns a little to have to hide it, hence why Liam just shakes his head and that’s it. He brings the topic back on the class and ignores the slight pang at having ignored a student’s question.

Then he reasons himself, because most of these students are adults. Grown up. More than half of them twice his age. They’ll understand it’s just something not to be talked about. Liam’s grateful he’s not a secondary school teacher right now more than any other time.

Midway through class though, the peaceful atmosphere is disturbed. The knock comes as a surprise. So, does the principal of the school’s face peeking in through the small space that’s made in between the door and the frame. All that’s answering the principal’s interruption are Liam’s eyebrows, up and questioning. All that they get is the woman walking in and closing the door behind her. She clears her throat as the heels of her shoes are light but still click and clack on the floor.

Liam’s more than intrigued now. 

Mrs. Jane is a rather straightforward woman. She never shies away from telling her employees what they’ve done wrong and what they need to change during meetings. So, keeping quiet long enough to get close to his ear to not let everyone know about the announcement means that it must be something important.

Liam can’t count on his fingers how many important things have happened in this school, because it would amount to zero.

Yet here he is, listening intently to her quiet and secretive, “You’re being asked to my office Mr. Payne, I will be keeping an eye on your classroom for the moment.”

Liam would ask, he really would. Gets ready to do as such but she fixes him with that look that calls for no argument or questions and she’s so good at it. The same one that his mum had when she used to tell him the way she thinks and wouldn’t take any of his opinions that went against the idea. 

Mrs. Jane reminds him of his mum, that’s another reason why he keeps this school close to his heart. Aside from the fact that it’s the only one that was willing to take him in after he got his certification despite his lack of experience in what he applied for. 

Liam knows, most of what is happening to him is half luck and half no one else would want it, so here have it. But he cherishes it all. An optimism that follows him wherever he goes and often has Louis seeking his company whenever something awful occur in his life. Niall’s the one to go to when anyone’s hitting a shitty low though, they both agree on that.

It’s curiosity that follows him while he makes his way down the hall. It intensifies of course when he rounds the corner to get to Mrs. Jane’s office and finds that it’s filled in with suits, sunglasses and men who look like they’ve walked right of the Men in Black, school’s version. Liam almost asks that question, if they’re filming the movie in a school environment next but he barely has the time to talk when someone he recognises turns around and brightens at his sight.

The man who’d been so adamant about Liam not saying anything about what happened. The one who showed up at the same time as the ambulance and police officers and wrapped up the curled lad Liam had apparently saved and cannot say he has saved. Then introduced himself as Daniel and told Liam that something would be done for the heroic act that he’d done on that night. 

Maybe this is what it is about. The payment itself, even if Liam told him it wasn’t necessary. Daniel looks like the kind of person who doesn’t just not get his way though so Liam might as well just take it, whatever it is and let the man do as he wishes.

That is the plan at least. 

“It’s nice to meet you again, hm.” Daniel hums around what Liam assumes is a name that he’s missing. It shouldn’t amuse him. In fact, he can imagine Louis throwing a snicker here, turning his nose and going the other way. Liam would like to be the same as Louis sometimes, it makes it much easier to not just take what life gives you but to give it a piece of your mind before it can even so much as try to step on you. Louis’ a firecracker, Liam adores it.

But Liam’s Liam and he’s offering a polite smile, hands sliding in his pockets after a handshake and giving his name again, “Liam Payne.”

Daniel’s all but smile at that. One that’s quickly gone before he’s putting his hands behind his back and giving Liam a once over that doesn’t sit well with him.

“Can I ask why you’re here? Not to be rude, but I have a class to be giving and—l”  
“Mrs. Jane, who is your boss I presume, gave us the freedom to take as long as we wished to.” Daniel doesn’t even blink at the fact that he just interrupted Liam. Quite rudely too. He offers a hand towards Mrs. Jane’s office while adding and leading the way there, “Let’s discuss privately. I promise it won’t take too long.”

Liam follows with that promise. Hopeful that it’s kept.

“Although that might depend if you’re an easy person to persuade.”

Then Liam regrets doing so when the door shuts behind him. He has an instinctive reaction to get to it but he’s on the other side with Daniel between him and the door and nowhere to run to. Except for that tiny window by Mrs. Jane’s office. Too tiny for even Liam’s three years old niece to go through so that’s not even an option. Plus, this is just him being overdramatic. All that’s left to do is sigh and listen.

“Go on then, you must have a good reason if you’re cornering me as it is.”  
“You’re a smart man at least.”

Liam’s not smiling, even if Daniel’s got a nice one. Sitting there on his face and the man’s ability to look like two completely different people from just one smile going to a stern look is astonishing to say the least.

“You remember the incident of last time I’m sure. Well, I’m here to give you a proposition.”

It’s Liam’s turn to want to clarify one little point though. So, he holds his hand, watches Daniel’s eyebrows go up before asking, “Can I at least know why I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about it?”

Daniel seems to consider. If the way his shoulders square and go up is any indication of that at least. Then he clears his throat, there’s a decision there, Liam’s sure of it. Whichever it is, he waits it out.

Then hears it, “Mr. Styles is a very important figure of the entertainment industry. I am sure you may understand what that entitles, paparazzi, scandals, rumours. He’s already been through these in just four years of having reached the status of fame where he’s at.”

Right. Liam’s never heard of him, but apparently, he’s famous. There’s a thought to laugh at that. But there’s another one, more important. “How does that concern me at all today? I promised to not talk and I haven’t talked.”

“I’d appreciate if you’d let me finish, Mr. Payne.”  
“Just Liam’s enough, not even my students call me that.”  
“That might be because you could pass for the grandson of most them.”  
“Not _all_ of them.”

Daniel’s snicker is but a quiet puff of air through his nose. Liam’s feeling less and less inclined to go through this. It must be showing too because Daniel squares up again and this time pulls something out of the front pocket of his jacket.

“The goal of my visit is that Mr. Styles and his agency, which I work for, would like to hire you.”  
“What?”  
“Hire you, Mr. Payne.”  
“And again,” Liam frowns at the card hanging between them, surprised that Daniel’s still holding it and hasn’t taken it away and started to make sense. Because none of this makes sense. Reason one, “I’m not unemployed, you know.”

“I can clearly see that trust me. But a change of career wouldn’t be something you’re new to.”

That ticks. Liam’s face hardens instead of falling as it used to do whenever something mentioning his previous and failed career path was brought up. But these days, he just shifts into a mode that has him more ready to hit a punching bag than recoil in a corner and mourn the loss.

“You better get to the point and then get out of my space.”  
“There’s no need to be aggressive, I’m simply stating the truth. Besides, if you’d let me finish I would be able to clarify that the job itself entitles a part of what you might have had to give up on.”

Liam can’t help the sneer, “Because entertainment and boxing are two things that definitely have something in common.”

“I said a part and I never talked about boxing.”

“Then what the bloody hell do you want from me already?”

His temper’s not new, but it’s been reeled in for a while now. Liam can feel himself losing every bit of patience that he’s spending here rather than in his classroom. Finishing what he has to do, what he knows he will be doing for the rest of his life. He’s made peace with that already. He doesn’t need to be standing here with some twat reminding him of the wound that still might have a knife lodged in it. 

“Believe me, I’m not the one who wants anything from you at all.”  
“Then you might as well just leave me alone and let me go back to my life.”  
“I don’t believe that’ll be possible.”  
“What good would I even do working for some entertainment agency?”  
“As a bodyguard.”

Liam’s not sure when they ended up being so close that the fold of his arms is bumping against the fold of Daniel’s. But it happened. By the time these words are thrown out, he’s all but frowning. Now Liam’s amused. A bit stupefied but amused nonetheless.

“Don’t you have to hire experienced people for that?”  
“We had two that night and you may take a shot at what became of them.”

That takes him aback. His frown deepens, incredulity could be the reason behind the fold of them. They had two bodyguards that night? Where the hell could they have been while their employer was most likely being mobbed in a dark alley then? Because unless two of them turned against him, Liam can swear he hasn’t seen them on the premises.

“They were fired the moment they called and said they lost trace of Mr. Styles.”  
“How the hell—” Liam’s sighing and holding a hand up before Daniel can put in another word. “Look, it’s pretty sad and I feel, really I do, for Mr. Styles. But I’m not interested.”

“Thought you might say that.” Of course, Daniel doesn’t look surprised. Liam would bet not a lot surprises the man. “But maybe you could just, give us a call, come and look.”

“I’m not interested mate, not, interested.”

The man looks dejected, which is fucking hilarious. As if he expected Liam to argue for a bit then fold. That’s not how the world works, sadly or not.

“And I’d really like to go back to my class now. Mrs. Jane’s quite lovely, but she knows nothing about what I’m supposed to be doing.” Liam hopes he pulls off the categorical no discussion to be had here as well as Mrs. Jane and his mum do. 

Even if not, he’d like for something to go his way for once today. Which happens quite easily, surprisingly so. Daniel makes way for the door. Liam’s never walked out this quick before. Or that might be a lie. He’s taken the door out of his dreams even faster than he is sliding out of the office.

* * *

 

The clatter of a pan hitting his counter has Liam pausing in everything and sighing at Louis’ dramatic turn around. Niall’s all but giggling in a corner though, crisps swiftly disappearing from the pack that’s posed on the counter too. Right next to where it was almost knocked down by Louis’ little accident.

“That could have been Styles Li! The Styles, I can’t believe you wouldn’t even ask who he was referring to but I’m pretty sure I’m not wrong about it.”

Liam’s rolling his eyes. Of course, Louis would know about these things.

“He’s kind of right, mate. Styles’ pretty known.”

Except, Niall’s in it too and Liam’s arching his eyebrows at him asking how the hell.

“Then again why am I surprised. You don’t even own a telly in this gorgeous flat that you do not deserve.” Louis sighs and cleans up the mess he made, thankfully.

“Because I’ve not had the time to buy anything.” Liam argues, yet again. They always have this conversation. He knows what Louis will say before it’s even out of his mouth.

“You need to give them a call, I need to know if this is Harry Styles we’re talking about.” Except that Liam got it wrong and Louis is still going on about that apparently. Liam pushes off the counter and gets to eating the crisps, pushing Niall’s chair far enough that the bowl is now only in Lian’s sight of line

“I wasn’t even supposed to talk about this with anyone, you know. But who’s it anyway?” Because that’s the actual question everyone should have answered before Liam could be asking. After all, he damn sure saved said apparent sensation from being possibly mourned by millions of people. Most likely fans and those who wouldn’t be able to make money out of his fame anymore.

“Since it’s never too late to educate you on pop culture and sensations, sit down. Let me tell you the tale of the amazing Harry Styles.” Louis’ all but pushed Liam out of the way and tugged the bowl of crisps to himself now. Niall finds his way next to Liam and chips in, “Only 23 years old and already has a fan base bigger than Taylor Swift’s they say.”

“They don’t just say, it’s the truth.” Louis affirms, looks even offended Niall doesn’t believe that fact. Liam’s amused and confused. Mostly hungry though.

“He was found in the streets yeah, singing just for fun he said. That’s how he was scouted. He apparently moved to California one day, with nothing but his family’s support but refused to let his mum pay for anything. He had a lot of struggle because big city, new environment, dreams of becoming a singer but having to do small jobs left and right before getting to it.”

Liam pauses Louis, hands waving in the air. “How do you even know all of that?”

Niall’s the one who answers, “There’s a documentary on his life.”

Now Liam’s laughing. Then wincing at the pinch that earns him from Louis. “Do not mock a poor lovely soul that has starved, cried, been pitied, trampled on by the world and rose to fame with the most beautiful talent ever known.”

“Okay.” Liam holds his hands up in surrender, but tilts his head to where Niall’s gotten hold of the bowl again and is walking to the living room.

“Anyway, pay attention Payne. It’s a bit of a Cinderella story, minus the evil step mother and evil step sisters.”

“Then it’s just a story mate, sorry but there’s no Cinderella if there’s no evil step mothers and step sisters.”

“Shut up! I demand that you give them a call or I will do it on your behalf.”  
“You can’t, Louis! I have a job, a perfectly stable job, I don’t see why I would throw that away just because of some pop sensation that can’t even be bothered to actually find good people to keep him safe.” Liam’s frowning at the end of that. It has been bothering him, that bit of information.

“Actually, I’m a hundred percent sure that Harry’s at fault for his bodyguards not being there.” Niall’s throwing from the couch when Liam and Louis come to find him there and plop down at either side of him. “He has a bit of reputation for outsmarting security.” He finishes while leaning towards the laptop to start going through a list of movies. Liam will admit that getting a telly is a good idea. The tiny screen of his laptop is never a good thing to share with two other grown people.

“Then he’s a twat on top of that.” Liam’s wincing, again, from Louis reaching over to smack him over the head. For someone that they don’t even know and most likely have only seen behind a screen. Just great.

“Forget me doing anything if you hit me one more time.”  
“Oh, please Li, do it just so I can get a signed CD.”

Liam knows this voice, it’s he pleading one. The one that Louis knows gets him anything from anyone and Liam’s weak to that voice, always has been. Since the first-time Louis slid in next to him in History class and asked him if he could lend him a pen for a second but never returned it.

“I wouldn’t pass a chance to get something too.” Niall chips in. It’s tempting really. Liam’s known for wanting to please the people he cares for. Especially these two. But he shakes his head, resolute. Life isn’t just about making decisions to please other people, no matter how hard it is to deny them sometimes.

“Sorry, no can do.” He catches Louis’ hand before it hits him this time. Niall’s laugh covers the first seconds of the movie but after that they all fall quiet and keep as much of their focus as they can on the laptop’s screen.

Right before Louis tries his luck again and they’re left with understanding only the last twenty minutes of the movie.

* * *

 

Liam doesn’t give it much thought after that. In fact, he’s too busy trying to burn away the traces of Daniel’s word that it could be like getting his fighting career back and making sure he doesn’t look as bored as he feels these days with teaching. He did some research though. He couldn’t not, when Louis kept sending him everything there is to know about Harry Styles.

Twenty-three years old, huge pop star. Often appears as a cameo in movies. He’s currently shooting with a lead role in a war movie. He writes his own songs, has a fan base that is entirely comprised of teenagers. Especially girls. Including Louis. 

Interviews show that he’s quirky, borderline weird to a surprising extent. He tends to be quiet when he doesn’t like where something is going, is not a good liar when faced with questions he dislikes. He has a playboy reputation, mainly dates models.

Liam texts Louis one time through the hordes of information that _he might as well be the more advanced version of Justin Bieber_ and Louis texted him right back that _they already have that in the name of Zayn Malik_. Then Liam had to quickly think about not asking who that was and going back to _so what has Harry been doing lately_ to avoid that bullet entirely.

Essays and essays did come and Liam finds himself knowing more about Harry Styles in one week than he ever did in years. 

But it’s a quiet uneventful week. It makes it seem as if the last events never even occurred. By the start of the next one, Liam’s all but classified it as a very faraway dream. 

He’s sure he’ll go back to it often as that one crazy moment where he almost worked as a bodyguard for a pop star. He also gets a telly on Wednesday and has a night all to himself on Saturday. Sitting on the couch, a bowl of cereal in hand and going through channels until he falls asleep right there.

It’s something he realises only when he’s pulled out of his sleep by a noise. Not just any noise. Knocks on his door. Liam’s mind is foggy but he looks for the watch he always wears, wrapped around his wrist with a glint of gold that never fails to catch with the sun. 3 a.m. is not a time to be paying a visit to anyone, no matter how close their friendships might be.

Because he’s assuming it might be Louis or Niall, who else wouldn’t think about being a bother at such an ungodly hour? Liam shouts, “Coming!” When the knocks start sounding like a rhythm, as if they’re knocking a song on his door. Which makes him think it must be Louis and not Niall, because Louis’ patience runs as thin as ice.

He opens the door with a curse ready at the tip of his tongue. But his mouth opens and close just as quickly and everything is encased in a frown that’s oddly matched with the face he’s met with.

“You’re Liam Payne, right?”

Liam hears the question but runs a hand over his face as if it will rid him of his sleep induced state. Probably rid him of the sight of none other than Harry Styles, hat on his head, but no curls popping from under that. Because they were cut. 

Last time, Louis did text about that. All Louis’ been texting Liam about is bloody Harry Styles so he had to eventually block the number just for a bit. Hence why he assumed Louis would be here right now too, might have figured it out and come to scold Liam for the gesture.

“Hm, I didn’t—” Harry’s fidgeting now, looking unsure when he adds, “Get it wrong right? I got it wrong, didn’t I? I to—”

“No, No, you—yes.” Liam feels a bit stupid but he nods quickly and doesn’t feel less confused even if something clears on Harry’s face. He looks relieved, the flush that was quickly climbing up his face stays and sticks but he looks relieved and Liam can’t help but return the small smile Harry gives him then. Then Liam quickly shakes his head and would hit his own head if it wouldn’t look too weird doing so right now.

“What are you doing here though?”  
“You didn’t call.” Harry says, is yet again frowning and making sense only to himself.

Liam would like to say he understands where this is going, but he’s tilting his head instead and Harry’s shrugging.

“So, I came.”

“Did you outsmart your security again? Because that’s not a good thing at all.” It is after all the first thing Liam thinks about. Because that caused some problem and given the proportion of said problem, Liam’s sure they found someone else to keep Harry safe. 

But Harry’s here right now, by himself and there’s no agent lookalike following him so Liam’s drawing conclusion as if he belongs in a detective movie. No shame about it. He always thought he’d make a good one if he hadn’t ruined himself temper wise.

“What? No!” The denial is too strong, Liam thinks. Doesn’t need to say it when Harry looks down and kicks at the carpet covered floor. “I said I was going to be gone just a few minutes.”

Liam lets the silence stay there. After all, this is his flat, this is his territory and no, he’s not at all sure why he’s even glad Harry’s not been mauled in some dark alley and why is he even thinking about it. It’s none of his business. 

Whatever happens to Harry Styles has nothing to do with him now. What happened that night were just him being at the wrong place at the right time and saving the day because he’s Liam and he wouldn’t just walk by something if he can do something about it.

“They might get worried.”

Harry says nothing.

“Then fired.”

Harry shoots a quick glance up now, it looks like he’s glaring. Liam’s rolling his eyes, because he should be the one throwing that look around.

“I didn’t come here to get lectured.”  
“Well then mate, tough luck for you. When you act like a brat, you get treated like one too.”

“I’m not a bloody brat, I just wanted to know why you didn’t call? How’s that wrong at all?” That’s temper alright. Quiet and firm and not yelling, but it’s there and Harry’s backing away a bit when he throws that. Defensive.

“I didn’t call because as I told the person who came the first time, I’m not interested.”

Liam’s sure Daniel’s made sure to tell Harry exactly that too. So, there shouldn’t be any of this happening right now. This doesn’t make any sense and he would like to go back inside and have a good night sleep because he has papers to finish grading for tomorrow.

“If it’s about the money.”  
“Not about the money, I’ve got plenty.”  
“Then what is it about? How come anyone would jump at the opportunity but you’re just not—” Harry’s taking a breath in, puffing it out and Liam’s thinking he understands why Louis lost his shit over the curls being gone. They were the first thing he also noticed when help came that night. 

Falling all over Harry’s face and looking soft enough that one would want to pet for any reasons at all. At that moment, it was because he looked a bit lost and out of it, wrapped as he was in the blanket they provided him. Liam wasn’t even allowed to talk to him that night though. So, he just looked, gave a salute when Harry was pushed in the back of a van and that was it.

That was supposed to be it at least. But here’s Harry, standing at his door and looking like Liam’s somehow offended him by not accepting a job proposition. None of this makes sense.

“It’s nothing personal, if that helps.”

It doesn’t seem to, because Harry just stares at him without saying anything. It makes Liam wants to justify beyond not being interested. But before he can do that, Harry’s pursed his mouth for a second and quickly filled in the silence. “You can fight though.”

“Yeah?”  
“Yeah, pretty good.”

“Heard that, had to be.”

Harry gives him a small smile, one corner pulled. Liam doesn’t try to stop himself from giving one back, Harry’s dimple’s a nice sight for the second that it lasts.

“Always got to be good too, at, yeah, everything.” Harry says then, purses his mouth again, along with furrowing his eyebrows.

“Must be hard. Unless, you like that. Being good at everything.” Liam’s not sure what being a pop star or celebrity entitles. Given though, that he’s given up that as well when he stopped boxing professionally. He can understand any aversion towards that kind of fame.

“I—hm, it’s not so bad. Until, until you get followed everywhere and can’t even hang out outside without pictures being leaked and allegedly dating someone you’re just friends with.” Harry shrugs again, Liam stays quiet. “Until you get swamped with security and told you can’t even go see your family without looking like a pompous kid who’s trying to look more important than the rest of the world.”

“Why did you get attacked?” Liam asks and seems to take Harry by surprise with the question.

“That’s the funny part. They were really just part of a gang, they probably only wanted a quick robbing.” Harry smiles around it. He suddenly looks younger than his age, and tired. His features have gone soft and Liam’s unsure how he can go back to that memory without holding the hard edges they were to it.

Liam knows he’s still feeling the bruise on his knuckles each time he hits the punching bag, even though he’s got his gloves on all the time.

“And you saved the day and I just thought, it would be nice.”  
“To hire me because?”  
“You looked like a hero.” Harry frowns while saying that, looking back down at his shoes. “Just felt like I was protected and not just because you had to, but you wanted to. That’s what, that’s why—I’m sorry if I caused any troubles. Didn’t mean to.”

All Liam can say is, “Yeah.” Because he’s not sure what to say to that. 

He did feel like a hero then but hearing Harry say it, confirm that they had the same thought at that moment. It takes the words out of his mouth. He’s not sure in what way though. Liam doesn’t feel like he deserves it on one side and on another, on another what? He’s touched that he gave that to Harry? The feeling that someone out there might not just be doing something for him because they have to?

“I’ll just go then, sorry again, for the bother. I don’t even,” There’s something close to a laugh leaving Harry’s parted lips and then he’s shaking his head and pulling on his cap. “My mum would smack me right if she knew how much of a right git I was being right now.”

“I’m sure she would go easy on you.”  
“She would, you’re right.”

Harry takes a few steps back then he does what Liam did. Gives a salute with his hand, it doesn’t fail to make Liam grin. Then as it falls off and Harry turns on his heel, Liam does something he doesn’t understand himself.

He calls out, “Harry!” watches him freeze on spot and turn around, questioning.

“It’s a bit late.” Liam says that, runs a quick hand through his hair. “Might be best if you stayed, I’ve got a guest room, nothing fancy but you’re free to leave early in the morning so no one knows where you were at. Because I’m assuming you get followed at any time of the day.”

“I am.” Harry replies. 

Liam’s suddenly not sure of what he’s going to say. He’s also feeling rather idiotic for the suggestion he’s just made. But he’s not going to beat himself over it, this is something he would have done for anyone and not just Harry Styles standing in his hallway and looking like he’s not sure what to do with Liam’s proposition.

“That’s very nice of you, Liam.” Harry nods.  
Liam shrugs. “That’s me, nice Liam.”

The jest is thrown but no one is laughing at it and Harry shakes his head. “I should go. It might be a bigger problem for you if I’m caught. Mornings are harder to go by unnoticed.”

“Right, of course.” Liam crosses his arms and watches Harry turn around again. This time his steps are decisive and they don’t falter until he’s disappearing around the corner that leads to the elevators. Liam goes back inside his flat, locks the door and stays against it for a while. He texts Louis that Harry Styles just came by before going to bed and blocks Louis’ number again right after he does so.

* * *

 

_POPNEWS!_ HARRY STYLES: ALMOST GOT CAUGHT IN A ROBBERY?!

_An anonymous source has sent in that our very beloved pop star, Mr. Harry Styles has recently gotten in quite a traumatic accident. As the source itself says, the young sensational singer was accosted by rather dangerous individuals on the night of January 12 th 2017 while having a walk alone in a rather nasty part of London. Thankfully, Styles managed to come out unscathed and safe and sound as the source tells us. We do hope that no harm was done to him and that whoever ended up helping him get out of that sticky situation gets a safe place in heaven. They’ve after all given us more days to spend with Harry Styles who looks as healthy as ever. Heroes exist everywhere, don’t they? This one is sure to be getting a million of good wishes and thanks from fans all over the world!_

Liam’s found reading that a week after its release. January 26th is when he decides to unblock Louis’ number that’s why. He reads through it while finishing his sandwich then quickly closes it and reads everything else Louis sent in. There’s a lot of _I hate you Liam Payne_ , too many for Liam to not laugh each time he catches one. He’s getting ready to start replying, also start apologizing and grovelling to earn that pardon when he’s interrupted.

“Excuse me, are you Mr. Payne?”

Liam’s not sure why when he looks up and finds eyes clad behind glasses looking at him, he thinks of trouble. But he gives the girl a smile and nods and watches her pull a chair to sit in front of him with inquisitive eyebrows quickly going up his airline.

“Is it true that you’re the one who saved Harry Styles from the incident of that night?” She’s saying it at least while leaning in and in a whispering voice. But Liam looks around him anyways and quickly clears his throat. Not talking about it probably means especially not to people who ask about it and look like the notebook they have on them is meant to take notes and basically journalists lookalikes.

“Do I know you?” Liam asks her, tries the polite route.  
“Can you just answer the question?” But her tone makes him wipe his hands with a tissue and stand up and slide out of his chair.

* * *

 

Turns out, that was the fucking wrong thing to do. 

Too bad Liam realises it only the next day when he steps out of his building the next morning and is flashed with cameras and questions about Harry Styles and how does he know him and how does it feel to be a popstar’s saviour and what does he intend to do with the attention that it’s sure to bring him. 

So many of them, that Liam is stunned for a few seconds. When his mind catches up and he thinks, _it might just be best to go through the crowd or attempt to_. It’s all done for him before he can move even a finger. That is the crowd is moved to the side and men in black are the ones doing it, then they’re getting him and Liam’s following meekly without even thinking of protesting.

It’s only when the questions die in a heavy hush and the world is shielded behind the slam of a car’s door. A car he’s not even sure he checked before getting in. That’s when Liam blinks and snaps back to reality. He comes back to a hand wrapped around his arm and worried lines across a face he thought he wouldn’t be seeing again. Harry’s all green eyes and bitten lip, too close for comfort and Liam’s letting his head fall back against his seat.

“Alright?” Harry says again. It’s no longer just a quiet voice in a fog of screeching noises. Liam shakes his head, he’s not.

“Sorry, I thought—there came an article this night and Daniel said you might get swamped with paparazzi today and he’s usually always right so.”

Liam gets it. Fame, celebrity, this is their lives. They must go through this 24/7, he gets it. That their job comes with side effects they can’t shake away from them. But this isn’t his life, this isn’t his choice and he did all he could to avoid ever getting in this situation so he’s a bit upset. More than a bit. He’s swelling with it, it’s overwhelming and Harry’s got to stop talking because Liam’s this ready to snap at anything and anyone.

Whether it be fair or not. But Liam gets it, so he takes a quiet deep breath in and covers his face with his hands. He refuses to even let himself consider taking in his surrounding even when the car seems to slow down and nothing happens for a good few minutes. Nothing but Harry’s presence being known only because he’s breathing quietly in the enclosed space.

“I’m sorry.”

Liam shakes his head again, he’s not ready just yet.

“The article gave out your name and a picture of you eating at a subway.” Harry continues, then on and on about everything that was written. Down to how Liam’s an ex-boxer, or want to be boxer who quit and got too old to pursue it later. The words are nasty and they hit again, the same way Daniel’s did that day in Mrs. Jane’s office. Liam would like for the world to pause and let him breathe. He needs that more than anything but Harry’s slow drawl is not stopping and he can’t think.

“I don’t want it, any of this, I don’t want it.” So, he snaps, briefly. He’s surprised at how calm he sounds, but relieved, because the edges of his tone are cutting enough that if it weren’t calm, Liam would feel bad. 

But Liam doesn’t want to feel bad, not right now. For once, he just wants to be angry and have the right to be.

“Trust me, I know. No one wants any of this.” But Harry makes it hard when he sounds just as cutting and like he’s shuffling away from Liam’s sting as well. “I said I was fucking sorry, there’s nothing else I can do. Unless we can turn back time and you can always leave me be to whatever fate was awaiting me because no one asked you to play hero.”

“That was your life.”  
“Right, my life.” The laughter that comes is bitter, it sounds nothing like a laugh should sound like. It makes Liam uneasy under his skin. Like maybe he’s gone too far, he never could hold back when he pulls away from wanting to just please. It’s either too extremely blunt and brutal or too extremely nice and passive. 

It’s the reason why he turned to boxing, it’s the reason why he turned to fighting because extremes are not thought of. They’re done. You push, reach the limit and push past them too. Fighting is easy, you know you’ve got to win.

Words aren’t, people aren’t. None of this is.

“Doesn’t feel like it, feels like my life ended the day I signed a contract for it to be shared with everyone else. It ending might have been a blessing.”

“Don’t say that.” Liam’s snapping for another reason entirely now. He’s always hated that statement. People who talk about their lives as if it doesn’t matter, as if it’s worthless. Liam’s looking at Harry for the first time since he climbed in the car and frowning at how put together he is. 

A clean push back of his hair, white shirt with three buttons undone and black slacks. Almost as if he had a meeting and ended up making a detour just to come and pull Liam out of the most likely traumatism of the swamp of cameras waiting outside his building. While here is Liam, getting angry at him and pushing him in a corner of his thoughts that no one should ever have to be pushed into.

“Look, I’m—”  
“Save it, you have the right to be angry.” Harry slumps in his chair then closes his eyes when he leans against his seat. “Just put up with it for today until things calm down.”

Liam wants to ask put up with what, but that’s answered when his door opens and Daniel’s face pops in with a tight smile. “It’s good to see you again Mr. Payne.”

* * *

 

Liam figures the whole magnitude of what he’s got to put up with when he’s sitting in a living room. One that must belong to Harry, at least in a way even if it looks like no one’s ever lived here. 

Clearly that or Liam’s the messiest person to ever live and he’s not. It’s just odd because everything’s white save for a touch of yellow here and there but that’s about it for the colours. Liam feels self-conscious where he’s sitting, but the shifting had to stop at one point.

The point here is the contract sitting on his lap and a Daniel backed up by someone else that looks almost like a twin version of the man except older. Liam does the math quickly when the man starts talking and holds a tone that seems to say that he isn’t up for discussing the matter. 

Liam’s tired of that tone for some reason whenever it comes from the man’s mouth and he’s only met him for a few seconds. So, his thoughts go out to anyone who should endure this for more than just a few minutes.

Harry for the most part has been sitting in a far corner of the room and doing God knows what. Liam suddenly feels bad for even thinking him the worse part of this whole thing. This, this is awful. The pen’s tight in his grip and he’s going through every single words that’s been spoken in this room but what Liam’s getting the most is :  _Sign the contract and help Harry out or don’t sign it and be responsible for possible drama and scandals that won’t die until you eventually sign it._  

There are no choices being given here, simply a button to either push or avoid until you’ve got to push it. This is what Liam’s been avoiding all his life. This is why Liam gave up on fucking boxing, to not be sold the way he supposes he’s being forced to. The grip on the pen grows tight and tighter until it all but snaps and Liam has no intention of paying attention to it. Too bad that it’s weak in his hold.

He would tear it all if he could. But temper check, he admonishes himself, keeps his gaze down. 

It’s unnerving how nothing and no one moves in the room even with the ink that’s dripping down his hand now. It’s as if none of this mattered. As if they knew even if they had to get him to push his whole fist as a signature with the ink covering it, they would stay as quiet and let him go through with it. It’s hell and it has a tight fist around him.

It’s got him right where it knows Liam will never want to break a string.  
Responsibility, righteousness. He wants to say to hell with it and may Harry have all the luck on his side. But the man’s words were not wrong. They won’t just harass Harry, he will be on those tabloids too and they won’t stop until something else better comes along. 

Except that, most people had been suspecting something about Harry that would prove to go along with Liam too smoothly. It’s almost as if God is on the wrong side today.

“Can I have a day to think it over?”

“I don’t see why you would need to think over something unavoidable.”

“Just let him go already.” For the first time since they walked in Harry’s talking. He sounds as frustrated as Liam and Liam’s sure he is. He’s been playing with the phone on his lap without checking it the whole time. Paying attention to details is something that’s been engraved under his skin and Liam might never lose that part of him, even if it doesn’t help him as much as it used to during a fight.

“We don’t even need this. The hype will die and they’ll move on to something else, they always do. I just need to find another scandal or feed into another rumour and that’ll do.”

Liam catches Daniel’s stern gaze before his own goes to Harry. He doesn’t want to feel bad, in fact, Liam’s glad Harry’s not letting him just sign and acting like he doesn’t care if it’s right or wrong to force Liam’s hand in such a way. Liam’s so glad about it, he could sign these papers just because he’s grateful.

He won’t though.

“I want to think it over.” Liam says when no one reacts to Harry’s little outburst. “Not like anything will change in 24 hours.”

Now all eyes are on him but Liam’s holding Harry’s wide eyes with a quirk of his eyebrows. It seems to amuse Harry whose smile is caught between amusement and a mock of Liam’s words.

“You’ve got 24 hours Mr. Payne.”

The older doppelganger of Daniel seems to finally be on board and already is getting out of his seat and walking out of the flat. Liam’s not even going to grace that with a reply, neither is he going to look at Daniel who sighs and goes somewhere Liam assumes is the kitchen.

“Okay. So, does this mean I’m free to go?” Harry’s the one Liam asks that to. Since they’re the only ones remaining in the room.

Harry shakes his head and looks back down at his phone, “You can’t.”  
“I can’t what? You know I have a job that I couldn’t go to because of this and a life I need to get back to.”

“It’s too soon.” Harry shakes his head again sighs and runs a hand through that unmoving mop of hair. It barely budges even with that swipe of his fingers. “It might be hard to understand but it’ll be best to stay here for today.”

“Where even is here?”  
“Just a flat for when I stay in this part of London.”  
“Am I supposed to just—stay locked in, all day? What about work?”

“That’s taken care of.” Of course, Daniel’s got to step in then and say that with ease.  
“I can’t just stay in here!”

“We have a work out room.” That’s said over the rim of a cup Daniel’s bringing to his lips. Liam looks up at Daniel with a frown, one that deepens when the man doesn’t even look like he’s bothered by any of this at all. 

That’s when he decides he’s had enough, he’ll take that. He’ll take anything that has him doing something other than sitting here and wondering why the hell he’s even being dragged into this. It all comes down to just one thing, there’s nothing to do but sit it out, be patient and do as you’re told.

“Where is it?” Liam asks as he stands up from the couch.

He doesn’t need to get told twice before he’s making his way there.

* * *

 

There weren’t lies. Every time Liam peeked from the glassed window there would be people waiting down in front and at the back as well. Just looking had them moving like ants, immediately pointing at the shadow he must be making.

It’s dark out and they’re still pointing, now with flashlights that have Liam frowning down as it hits his eyes.

“They won’t leave.” Harry’s voice pulls him away from looking down the window. Liam turns with a sigh, runs a hand through the buzz of his hair that’s growing thicker. “And even more if you just stay there.”

There’s one good thing coming out of this. Daniel doesn’t stay over, left a few hours ago, after they ate dinner Harry made. He can cook, which is a surprise but shouldn’t be. Louis mentioned that he did stay by himself for a while before getting scouted. It’s easy to learn a few things when you’re starving and there’s no mum to feed you.

“I don’t know how you do this.” Liam says quietly, sits on the small edge offered by the window.

Harry gives him a shrug and folds his arms. He decides for the arm of the couch. The distance between them is not big enough that Liam can’t catch how he seems to slump just a bit more. The day has taken a toll on Liam, staying cooped up through it all would have been disastrous to his mood if he hadn’t used the treadmill for a good hour.

“You get used to it.”  
“I wouldn’t. I didn’t sell out because I knew I wouldn’t.” It’s the first Liam’s addressing this. Louis tried to pull it out, Niall did, his mum, everyone did. But Liam always stayed on his stance and never mentioned anything about his career. Why he quit, how he quit, the build up to the last match. The last match that never happened. Here he is though, voicing it out as if it matters now.

Harry nods, for once looking like he’s the one who doesn’t know what to say. Maybe that’s why Liam can’t hold it back.

“They told me it came with it, if you want to go higher than just a few low fights you have to at least do a few of those corrupted ones. I didn’t want it, I didn’t believe it.”

“So, you quit.”

The way Harry says it makes a rush of guilt and shame swim up his chest and tighten in his throat. Liam’s never said the word, not quite to himself and no one’s ever said it. Not quite like that. 

It makes him feel like he could have done more, he could have become a coach like they told him to. He could have still gone on with the low matches. But it was all pride and frustration and so much anger. Here he is now, with all of it tingling all the way to his fingertips and no fight to quench the thirst.

“Whoever he is, that Daniel. Said that being a bodyguard and boxing have something similar. But it doesn’t, I don’t get to fight. I only get to keep your back safe. Sometimes from people who wouldn’t even harm you. It’s not the same.”

“Would it be so bad?” Harry asks.  
“What would?”  
“To keep my back safe.”  
“That’s not the point Harry.”

“Well,” Harry’s whole body seems to reek of nervousness when he does that. His eyes shifting, ankles crossing. Arms unfolding and folding. “You’ll never know until you give it a try.”

“Why me?”

Harry seems to startle. He looks up and holds Liam’s gaze for a long second.

“I told you. You saved me.”  
Right that. Because Liam wanted to.  
“It was only a coincidence.”

“I know that.”  
“Anyone else could have done that.”  
“That’s not true.”

Harry’s not wrong. Louis said the same thing, Niall agreed too.

“Maybe they would have called the police and left it at that but no one would have,” A light laugh comes in between while Harry pauses and his shoulders’ slump seem less defeated. More relaxed than anything. “Fought them off.”

“I’m not a hero Harry.”  
“You are though, to me you are.”

Liam doesn’t know what to say to that. He thinks it best to keep quiet, so he keeps quiet. He thinks it best to stop replaying the word hero in his mind, but it doesn’t stop.

“And I know it’s selfish, but I wanted you to stay that.”

A hero. 

What a heavy word when it’s through someone else’s expectations. Someone else’s hopes. Because that’s what Harry’s eyes have right now. Hope, so much of it that the vulnerability it brings with it could choke Liam. If he wasn’t already a little breathless from everything that’s happened.

* * *

 

Liam’s signature is : _I’ll be your hero_.

He hands the contract to Harry over a plate of toasts and a warm cup of tea the next morning. Harry doesn’t look at it at first, just keeps it under his palm. 

But Liam hears the rustling of papers when he takes his own tea with him and leaves for the guest room to make a call to Mrs. Jane. Even if he has a feeling a certain Daniel would have taken care of that already.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Sorry, just not used to it. Indifference.”_   
>  _Liam shakes his head quickly dismissing Harry’s choice of word, “It’s not indifference.”_   
>  _“It’s not?”_   
>  _“No, but it’s respect for your privacy. Which, suppose you lack a lot of people who are aware of overstepping that. But I’m not a journalist, hell, I didn’t even know who you were until--”_   
>  _“That night.” Harry interrupts but frowns when Liam shakes his head._   
>  _“The day after, when Daniel came to offer me to be your bodyguard.”_   
>  _“Oh.”_   
>  _“Yeah.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished chapter four! So have the next one, now I'll be working on the last chapter and when that is done, you shall see chapter three, or maybe I'll post three earlier and when five is done I'll put up four, either way know that if four is out it means five is ready to be posted and you won't have to wait long for all of it to be out there. Won't ramble too much here, hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

Liam’s flat welcomes him with relief, contentment, bewilderment and the first thing he wants to do is soak in a bath and never come out of it. But footsteps following right behind him reminds him that even that wouldn’t be possible right now. 

The noises have quiet down ever since they made the announcement that Liam saved Harry because he was his bodyguard and nothing else. Liam thought it was going to be complicated to explain why they couldn’t say that to begin with instead of letting rumours run loose. 

But the media took it like that and started posting nice things about how Harry’s got one nice man keeping him safe and suddenly Liam and Harry were in good terms with the media again.

They first started fading from the building where Liam was kept for three whole days, hauled in while they were discussing how to do that press conference that would make him—somewhat of a free man. By the third day Liam was ready to say anything they wanted from the lack of actual sunshine and air that is not shared with more than one person for 24 hours nonstop.

It’s still ridiculous in his eyes, that the media cares that much. So much and yet the moment they’re fed something anything they just let go of whatever they had their teeth in and start gobbling down on whatever junk it is that they were given. Like dogs who only play to receive a treat.

“I’ll be quick.” Liam says and gets a hum from Harry. Daniel doesn’t bother, but the less he bothers the better for Liam. The man’s nothing but prickles and thorns against his sides and a continuous banging on his skull. Harry must have one hell of a steeled armour to stand being with him as a manager. Which means 24/7 most likely. 

They talked about how Harry’s management works, who is who. The old twin of Daniel? The CEO of the agency where Harry works under. Daniel himself? Main manager. Main because there’s another one, a petite woman, blonde platinum hair, that Liam swears cannot be natural but that she swears is absolutely one hundred percent her hair.

She was fun, she was really. The only good thing that came out of these whole three days, too bad she only came on the last one. He’s sure he’ll be seeing a lot of her though in the upcoming days and months. The contract stipulated that this was only a yearlong deal so Liam’s got hopes that he can pull out of it then and finally go on with his normal life. 

For now, he’s got his luggage to pack a small amount of clothes in and he has a flat right next to the one where Harry mainly stays. Somewhat of a private location which apparently paparazzi aren’t even looking for because they were under strict contract to not do so.

It’s confusing all of this. Deals made with the devil is what it feels like. One moment they love you enough to give you some peace, the other they only want to chew you and spit out any remaining pieces of you for the money and buzz it will get them. 

The more Liam thinks about it, the less he understands why he went ahead and got pulled in by Harry’s words. Or more like word. Only one single word and he was done in. He’s well past the age of wanting to be a damn superhero but he went and signed that embarrassingly too.

As the days have come and gone, he’s woken with the dread of what he just did. It’s here right now too, as he zips the luggage and flops down on his bed. It might be a while before he gets to do this again so Liam takes the time to lie down and face his ceiling. 

Mrs. Jane had sounded somewhat excited when he told her the news—which she already knew of course. Liam hasn’t even given them to Louis or Niall yet but he knows the media would have done a good job at informing just about everyone. Liam’s just a regular lad, there’s nothing treacherous about this.

He used to think about that incident as being at the right place at the right time. But he’s not sure right now. Because he doesn’t know what he just got himself into and he’s absolutely completely at a loss of where things are going to go from now on. 

Even if it isn’t really regretting the decision, it’s more like questioning it each time he woke up, walked in the kitchen and found Harry sitting with two mugs of coffee waiting. Harry had a smile too, Harry looked more relaxed than Liam’s seen him and Liam’s only seen him properly only about three times so that must say a lot about the stress this life has been causing him.

If Liam could catch it at first glance, chances are that it’s as heavy as Harry must feel it. So when Liam questioned his signature at the end of the contract but found that sight the next day, Harry seemingly glad and dimpled and pushing a mug his way. He understood two things. 

First, apparently, he hasn’t outgrown his hero complex. Two, this is why Harry’s some pop star and everyone is so interested in everything he does. Harry just looks so genuine in everything he does and Liam’s known that from just being with him for 72 hours while the media, his team, his agency have been with him for close to three if not four years now.

Harry said something that next morning after Liam signed the contract, something about looking forward to working with security for the first time in ages. He also surprisingly promised to never try to outsmart Liam or at least wander alone if he’s not allowed to. Harry looked eager and excited to be doing this, enough that Liam forgot about his apprehensions. 

They resurface though whenever he’s by himself, like now.

Liam knows he will miss his flat, he will miss his classroom even if he was starting to get bored from that life. He suddenly misses not being part of it. It’s surreal, being in his own body but feeling as if his life’s not his, not anymore.

“Hey.”

Liam startles, just as a bile was starting to rise up his throat, Harry’s voice startles him out of it. He takes a breath in, realising he stopped breathing at some point only as he does so. Liam’s got his  hand running against his chest, then up his neck as he sits up and gives a small smile to where Harry’s standing in his doorway.

“Sorry, you probably need more time but, hm, Dan says we have to leave soon.”

It’s 7 in the morning, they all woke up around 5 and barely had time to get some breakfast before getting to the talk of where Liam would be staying. An information that was already all planned out before Liam was even given it, he’s not sure if he’ll ever get used to that. Being told things after they’re done. 

Then they gave Liam what he’s wearing now, suit, dress shirt, shoes, slacks. 

Everything on him is brand new.

“Right, right, yeah, I’m ready.” Liam says that without even knowing if the word sits well with him. If he really is ready or just saying it to seem more in control than he feels. Harry doesn’t move as Liam drags his luggage on its heels and comes forward. “What?”

“Just—you can always, this flat, you can keep it. You can come back whenever you want to, it’s not going to be jail. I just wanted you to know that.”

See what Liam means? It’s hard to feel like he’s regretting everything when Harry’s understanding, apprehensive and at the same time hopeful all in one as he says that. He’s got so much written on his face and all he’s done is offer Liam some reassurance that his life isn’t totally not his anymore. A part of it is still here, in his flat. That he wouldn’t have given up on anyways.

“I was going to rent it, I’ve got a friend who needs the place.”

“Oh.” Harry retracts himself from the doorway, takes a step aside and folds his arms across his chest. Liam’s not sure why, but he feels the need to somewhat give him a pat, so he does it. He reaches a hand and lightly taps his palm against Harry’s side. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

Harry comes with, and with a quiet “Yeah.”

* * *

 

Everything has a pace that is a bit unbelievable on that day. 12 p.m. an interview with a crew from the movie that has just started being filmed. Then an hour later it’s another drive to a movie set. 

Then days in that fly without a single one being caught by Liam and the information that in the following week, Harry will be in another country and Liam hasn’t had the time to unpack at all.

It’s a good thing since he would have needed to pack again if he’d done that. 

Except it’s exhausting. 

He doesn’t really get to stay in the given flat that much and he wasn’t informed that he was sharing it with a few other ‘men in black’. But that’s a detail Liam overlooks because there’s no time to argue about it.

They switch at times but Liam stays the most, by Harry’s orders, the small amount of control he has, he wants it done that way at least that’s what he told Liam. Liam believes that. 

Liam knows if he had so little say in what goes on in his life he would hold onto any rebellious box he could tick. A week in and they’re at a hotel right now, waiting for the next morning to get to board the plane and travel all the way to Germany.

Liam’s standing outside of Harry’s room because they just got here and he patrols and double check outside and stays there for a good hour or two before a switch. He’s done patrolling in thirty minutes, it’s a routine he fell into so quickly. 

Liam can say that it isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. It’s fast paced, moves before he can even think of what he’s doing. Mostly he doesn’t think, doesn’t talk much. 

Sometimes drives with Daniel and Harry places to places, other times, is in a car following them. But what Liam loves the most about it, is how he can blend in the back and no one will try to engage him in a conversation or anything at all.

He’s become that, a décor, a man in black as he likes to call his co-workers. They’re funny lads too, talk about Liam being a favourite. Liam just shrugs, talks about maybe being tougher than them and that’s why and they wrestle it out every morning before Liam needs to get ready to attend to duties.

Vigilance needs to be more pronounced when they’re at any hotels, any.

Liam learned it on the second day of having taken his duty as a bodyguard. Three girls, harmless as they can be, chatting and laughing, asking for directions and a fourth one, thinking that the plan’s working. 

Liam would have been had too, if not for the fact that the doorknob made a noise as she turned it and it didn’t budge. Harry locks it from inside, another security procedure Liam thought was silly until that happened.

Now he’s the one making sure to remind Harry to lock it before Daniel even throws in his stern look and battles it out with Harry. That’s another thing tonight, Daniel’s not here. 

He’s been hovering and making sure Liam’s position is well adjusted all week and tonight he just called to let Liam know that most of the next week, the whole trip to Germany was on his shoulders. Maya, the blonde assistant manager, might join them somewhere during the end of it but Liam’s in charge.

Seriously, Liam’s in charge.

Daniel even said something as ridiculous as, “He listens to you without fighting back so I’ll take that much, much, needed break from his caprices.” Which isn’t a lie. Harry does listen to Liam, whatever the reason for it is. 

When Liam tells him to do something for his own good, Harry obliges without even batting an eyelash and he’s done nothing but make Liam’s life easy when it comes to respecting security codes.

This is the easiest and most baffling job Liam’s ever had. The most shocking would be his pay though. Louis couldn’t close his mouth during a skype session when Liam told him. 

Then of course he went on about how Liam could get him to eventually meet Harry along the way and how they’ve been best friends for years and Liam cannot forget all the times that Louis’ played saviour in this friendship. Liam said maybe and hung up before Louis could say anything else. Needless to say, his phone’s still buzzing and they had that conversation two days ago.

Liam’s leaning against the wall when Harry’s door slides open and he’s glancing, curious. Knowing only Harry can come out of there since he hasn’t let anyone else in. Harry who looks sleepy and smiles when he catches sight of Liam. 

Liam’s stopped trying to look serious and stern when Harry does that, simply because it’s not possible and he likes that Harry always gives him a smile when he sees him. It’s been happening. Mostly during movie sets, when there are small breaks.

Liam’s caught Harry looking around, tilting his head and giving a wave when he spots Liam. Or at times just letting his lips curl on a smile and lowering his gaze back on a script and at first Liam thought to himself that to be professional he had to make it look like he couldn’t so much as blink. 

Except, he can do that with anyone. Even Daniel who of course only lives to get a rise out of Liam somehow. But Liam would find himself returning a wave or nodding along with a slow tug of his lips upwards too, catch himself frowning at that then resume that he wouldn’t do it again next time only to fail.

So what’s the point of fighting against a reaction he can’t even control?

“You should be sleeping.” Liam says when Harry closes the door behind him and seems to want to stay out with Liam for a bit.

“I slept, look.” Harry turns his face and points a finger to the traces across his cheeks. Pillow touch that have rendered the skin red and Liam’s sure it will be warm if he could touch it. “If I went on doing that again, I’d probably fall in a coma.”

Liam wants to point out that this is the first time in close to 48 hours that Harry had some quality sleeping time. But Harry only listens to Liam when he knows he doesn’t have any other choices, Liam’s sure of it. That’s why he doesn’t say anything as he watches Harry stop next to him and lean on the wall as well.

“Isn’t this boring?” Harry asks.

“Very.” The immediate answer makes them both grin, a puff of air and Harry’s foot starts tapping a rhythm on the carpeted floor. He does that a lot while he’s thinking of what to say or simply when he wants to keep quiet and needs his time before he can say anything else.

“I’ve wanted to ask—how did you find the first week?”

Liam gives a shrug. “It’s alright.”

“Not too tough?”

“Only one thing.” Liam watches Harry’s frown with more amusement than anything. “I was promised that it would be the same as fighting but there’s no action.”

“We can always arrange that.” Harry’s pushing off the wall and now facing Liam and Liam’s not sure how to take the sudden glint in his eyes. “It won’t be as close to fighting but some adventure, I can provide.”

“Huh, not sure any adventures of yours would be a good idea right now.”

“Why? This is boring, staying here all night, I can’t sleep and we’ve got four hours before we have to get ready to get to the airport. This is the perfect time.” Harry looks like he believes those words too. He’s biting on his lip before arching his eyebrows at Liam, suggestion sent and arguments put forward. 

All that’s left is for Liam to agree and go along with it. Liam shouldn’t. His contract says it clearly, no divergences and he must always make sure to keep Harry within safe range.

“You’ll keep me safe, wherever the adventure is.” Harry interrupts before Liam can say something after a sigh. Like he knows and Liam’s never thought of himself as the kind that has his thoughts and feelings written all over his face so it makes him frown.

“Nowhere too far.” Liam starts and Harry’s already all grin, bright eyed, knowing that he’s won. “And not longer than two hours.” 

Nothing can dampen Harry’s beam though and Liam sighs resigned while he follows behind. He presses against the white string around his ear and quietly informs Dylan ( who Liam assumes must be getting ready ) that his shift will be taken care of.

* * *

 

They end up climbing the hotel’s stairs so Liam won’t complain because it’s within the hotel grounds but at the same time. There’s a bit of curiosity that’s made him ask Harry where they were going. 

All he’s gotten out of it is Harry looking behind at Liam with a smile and a dimple that deepens each time and has Liam wondering how his finger might dip in. He shakes his head, at himself, at Harry staying silent while he takes them further up the stairs.

“I’ve been here before, in this hotel.” Harry tells him, sounding a bit breathless and Liam’s glad he’s not the only one feeling the burn of having to climb these damned stairs.

“And why couldn’t we take the elevators, since they exist?”

“We can only get to that side of the hotel with the stairs.” Harry says, sounding serious enough that Liam doesn’t even question if it’s true or if it’s just Harry who believes that. Made it up so he could give the same answer to anyone who dared to question his way of doing things.

Liam stays quiet, mostly because talking while going up makes him go even more breathless. It’s just safer to save his energy and then recuperate when they get there. Which hopefully will come soon.

When it does, it takes Liam by surprise. Because Harry’s waiting by an opened metallic door and holding his hand out. Liam wonders why it’s even out to him when he notices that there’s a wall, an actual wall to climb so one can get to where Harry is now crouched. “Come on then, my leg can only take that door for so long.”

Liam shakes his head but there’s a breathless chuckle leaving him before he takes Harry’s hand and gets the help he needs to have a leg up and then hands and he’s standing with Harry. 

The door swings then, because Harry’s leg has let go of it and Liam immediately reaches a hand, palm flat against it to stop it from bumping against Harry’s back. That is how he takes notice of how close they are, close enough that Harry’s breath’s a fan against his cheek.

Liam’s warm from the exercise, the climb and from the haul up but there’s also a tingle at his fingertips. The kind that makes his palms damp where Harry’s still holding onto it and Liam knows this. He knows it’s been a build. 

There’s a lot of things he’s been ignoring, like the small smiles and the fact that he wants to touch Harry’s dimple and the times he’s found himself with a hand pressed to Harry’s back moving them along a crowd. Only taking it back as Harry settled safely in the car. With Harry pushing further in and waiting for Liam to get in, sometimes he does, other times, all Liam can do is give him a smile and thumb up before moving away so Daniel can do so.

But it’s a bit hard to ignore when Harry doesn’t seem to want to move. Liam clears his throat, because this isn’t what he signed up for. He’s here to make sure Harry’s safe, even if he did it mostly because Harry’s persuasive. Very much so.

“Where are we Harry?” Liam breaks through the silence, holds a breath and tries to look past Harry’s shoulder to get a peek. He wants out of this heat trapped against his hands and face.

“Hm, rooftop.” Harry finally pushes against the metallic door. Liam’s arm was starting to protest so it’s good news when Harry’s weight pushes on it and then away from Liam’s space. He’s engulfed in a strong breeze soon as Harry moves aside though and Liam regrets complaining inwardly against the proximity because it’s freezing out there.

He follows Harry though, watches Harry’s hand let go of his and purses his mouth as their fingertips stop brushing. Liam’s hand is a fist by then, clenched tight around nothing. As it always has been. Always closed with the only warmth sipping from the gloves onto his skin and knuckles. 

Liam’s eyes scan the place, his hands are quick to seek heat in his pockets and he throws a worried frown at what Harry’s wearing.

A shirt, flowery and quite soft to the touch. A detail that was felt this morning as they climbed in the elevator and someone came in bumping into them, made Liam immediately come in between Harry and them until it was sure that they weren’t a threat.

Harry laughed at him afterwards, said something about Liam being too into his role already. Liam would have liked to remind Harry that he doesn’t seem to mind it that much, considering that he stepped behind Liam without even so much as a sound to protest. But he kept quiet, lips pulled in a corner, hands in front and let them have a quiet lift to their level.

“A bit too cold to be here right now.” Liam says, but has a feeling Harry doesn’t care what the weather is like. Liam has a feeling Harry stops caring about a lot of things when he’s by himself, most of them might involve things he usually would have to be careful about.

He’s caught Harry sliding in a chair, a bag of crisps and nose turned down at the fruits bowl that Daniel’s always urging him to snack on instead. It happened only once or twice during the week but it’s made Liam wonder how many times in a month, how many in a year? 

It’s odd, that it’s only been a few days but he can remember meeting Harry like it was yesterday and at the same time feels as if he knows more than one is supposed to know in those mere days.

Right now, Harry’s getting closer to the edge and Liam’s close behind. The silence seems to be comfortable enough, the kind that Harry held while reading the newspaper over a bowl of cereal this morning. 

Even though he protested about the lack of coffee and not being able to have a proper breakfast. He still ate it diligently, got ready just as obediently before going on set. In fact, as far as Liam can remember, today’s been a good day for Harry. Aside from looking tired.

“You didn’t ask.” Harry says, and it’s out of nowhere. Liam’s learned that he does that, seems as if his thoughts pause on a moment only to go back to it hours later. Like not replying to a question Daniel’s asked, then before Daniel gets ready leave, right at the door Harry will stop him and give him an answer and Daniel takes it like that. Like he’s used to it.

Liam’s sure he’ll never get used to that even if takes him a year. “What?” He asks back and Harry shrugs, “The day we brought you in to sign the contract, you didn’t ask what rumour we needed to quiet down.”

“It’s not any of my business.” As honest as it is, the answer’s that simple. Yet Harry’s shoulders are moving with a snort.

“You really don’t know and you’re really not curious?”

“You’d like it better if I was a phony, nose in everyone’s personal affairs kind of person?” Liam asks back. Because he’s not sure why Harry sounds bothered at all.

“Nah, you’re fine like this.”

“But you want me to be curious.”

Harry turns around to look at him, he looks surprised. For what exactly? That Liam might have put his finger on the truth, maybe. Liam threw it out with a grin and more as a joke but it’s here in Harry’s mouth pursing and his gaze falling on his shoes that he got it right. He did.

“Sorry, just not used to it. Indifference.”

Liam shakes his head quickly dismissing Harry’s choice of word, “It’s not indifference.”

“It’s not?”

“No, but it’s respect for your privacy. Which, suppose you lack a lot of people who are aware of overstepping that. But I’m not a journalist, hell, I didn’t even know who you were until--”

“That night.” Harry interrupts but frowns when Liam shakes his head.

“The day after, when Daniel came to offer me to be your bodyguard.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A breeze, a shiver up Liam’s arms and back despite the thickness of the jacket and shirt underneath it all. He turns to take a look at Harry and finds his shoulders rising up and his body closing in on himself.

“You’re cold.” Liam doesn’t make it a question because it’s clinging on Harry’s cheeks. Harry turns with a nod, doesn’t argue the fact.

“We should go back.”

Harry shakes his head and gives his back to Liam.

“Harry be reasonable.”

Harry throws him a look over his shoulder, one that’s new and has Liam closing the next protest that’s about to make its way past his lips. He follows behind Harry instead as they reach the edge of the rooftop and Harry sits down. His legs draping over the wall and shoes kicking lightly. Liam chooses to stay standing, alert.

“I’m not going to jump, don’t worry.” Harry says it so nonchalantly. Like this is something someone else has worried about while watching him. That he might get to a rooftop and decide that this has got to be the end. Liam wasn’t thinking that though, he was edging more towards accident than that. 

“Didn’t think you would.” So, he says it honestly--maybe just partly.

All Harry does is look up at him, the purse of his mouth breaks around a smile. One that might not pull enough to deepen his cheeks but fill Harry’s eyes with something Liam feels fond of.

Harry’s voice soft around the words, “Thank you, Liam.”

Liam can’t find it in himself to tell Harry to go back to his room after that.

* * *

 

Right before boarding, Liam gets a phone call from his mum. He picks it up and is greeted with her voice, loud and cheerful over the phone, babbling on about how he should have told her he switched career. It’s all sharing news, what they’ve been up to and how his father’s doing. 

His parents are the closest separated couple Liam’s ever known. They still have family dinner on Sundays whenever Liam’s visiting his hometown and they still have vacation together, all five of them. Liam’s the youngest with two older sisters.

That did make him the baby of the family even up to now. His mum said it wouldn’t matter if he jumped from twenty to thirty and fifty, he could be as old as he wishes to be, long as she lives he will be her baby.

It’s embarrassing, the constant cheek kisses and the tight hold she always has on him whenever he comes over. But she once saw him broken and in a hospital bed, battling with a fractured rib after one bad fight and Liam’s never shaken any affectionate administrations from her since then.

“Sorry, she wanted to say hi, because it’s been awhile.” He explains when he hangs up and catches up with Harry. There’s been a debrief of what’s to happen this morning but Liam’s got a work phone so that the whole team can be reachable. 

Only Liam and Dylan are going to be from the bodyguard team, Maya is scheduled to join during the last day of the trip and Liam’s to take most of the managing responsibility until then or let Harry do as he wishes long as there’s nothing dangerous about it.

Apparently, that’s something to worry about even if Liam gave a quirk of his eyebrows and questioned what kind of dangerous thing could a pop star ever get into?

Harry hit Liam’s shoulder when that mockery reached his ears and said, “Challenge accepted.”

So, now, Liam’s not sure what to expect but he’s hoping only good things will come out of this.

* * *

 

The flight will take a total of six hours. The first one goes uneventful, Harry naps that’s why. When he stirs awake, Dylan’s taking nap where he’s sitting next to Liam. 

Harry’s face peeks in from where the front seat and he blinks. He looks like he just woke up and he presses his cheek to his chair while his eyes look like they could use some more shut time. 

Liam hears a sigh, it reminds him of Harry’s breath against his skin last night. He brings a hand to his face, covers half of it where it breezed past and arches his eyebrows at Harry when his lashes flutter open to look at Liam again.

“Starving.” Harry mumbles.

Liam opens his mouth to list out the menu they’ve been given when Harry was being lulled to dreamland, but Harry gets up before that can be done. He stands up and holds out his hand to Liam while doing so. 

It leaves Liam blinking at the open palm before taking it and following Harry where he’s tugging them. The front, where two flight attendants are sitting behind a bar. It’s a lush jet that’s for sure.

Liam’s never been in one of those, it’s Dylan’s third time apparently so he’s used to it. Must be why Liam’s the only one who stayed awake and took in everything that was happening around him. It felt odd, that something that looked so tiny from outside could have enough space to have a bar big enough for at least five people to sit around.

At least, it helps him not focus on Harry’s hand still wrapped around his or that he hasn’t let go while asking the two girls leaning in and listening in to every words Harry’s saying like it’s a prayer they cannot miss. 

He has that effect it seems. Liam’s glad he’s not the only one who seems to be all wrapped up in Harry’s world without even knowing if it’s normal for it to feel that way.

It makes him think of the contract in these moments, and what Harry did with it, if he saw Liam’s signature. It makes him hot under the shirt, thankful that he’s discarded the jacket. Liam’s never felt that towards another man though. That’s been also itching under his skin, he’s not gay. So this is what? Somewhat of an attachment to Harry. That’s what it is. Even if it feels oddly familiar and comparable to when he first started dating Danielle. 

Harry’s good looking, Liam’s sure everyone can tell that and that Harry knows it too. Even if he doesn’t look cocky about it, there’s just a sort of confidence that comes with certain things he does. 

Walking among a crowd, looking down, or up, he has shoulders that seem to know when to make their way through anything. But Liam’s so unsettled in all of this. The hand in his, the hope that still dances behind his closed lids at night and the ink of the pen as he scribbled it under a contract that tied him to this life for a year.

It’s going too fast. Spiraling out of his touch, out of his control. A control Liam’s always been proud of having kept when he stepped out of his coach’s office after the last argument they had about Liam having to lose the next match.

“Liam.” His fingers feel the squeeze before his ears catch the sound of his name. Liam looks up, a questioning hum leaves him just as Harry tilts his head towards the flight attendants. “Do you want a beer?”

“No, thanks.” This is still work. Liam reminds himself before pulling his hand out of Harry’s hold and locking it around his wrist behind him. “Not while working.”

Harry looks like he’s ready to protest about something. Whatever it is, his hand stays there where Liam left it, his fingers wiggling a bit before he clears his throat and lets it drop to his side then he nods. 

Harry finds a high chair and pulls it, sits on it and then leans against the counter. He’s all but smiles when he does that, when he starts a conversation with the girls behind the bar and there are giggles and soft voices filling in, an odd mix with Harry’s low tone.

Liam’s fingers tighten around his wrist but he reminds himself that this is his job. Harry pulled him here, that’s what’s been happening since day one. He’s been nothing but pulled in. 

Pulled in a scramble in a dark alley, pulled in Mrs. Jane’s office with an offer that he thought he managed to get himself out of. Then pulled in hordes of flashes and pulled in an pristine flat with a contract and then pulled in with Harry’s words of seeing Liam as a hero.

Of wanting a hero.

But they’re just strangers. They were just strangers. Now with just the addition of being employer and employee. Liam resists the urge to squirm with the small lie that settles under the thought.  

When he tunes into Harry laughing at something and finds himself glancing at the source to find Harry’s eyes fall on him as well. Liam blinks and Harry’s eyes lower down to the pint sitting on the counter, his fingers tapping at the wooden surface.

Again, with the rhythm that always seems to be sipping everywhere. His feet, his fingers, his knuckles. Liam’s left missing the rough touch of his boxing gloves. He’s left missing a lot of things right there, because Harry’s right where he seems to belong and Liam feels a sort of irritation that not everyone gets to be there.

Where they want to be.

“You can go back.”

Liam tilts his head when Harry’s not looking up but knows that the words are meant for him anyway. “I’ll be alright, I’m in good hands.” Harry points his chin to the two girls who seem pleased by the fact.

It’s Liam’s turn to nod, it’s Liam’s turn to fall silent and bow his head a little before turning on his heels and going back to find his seat next to Dylan. This is his job now. He has orders, he has duties, responsibilities. 

Liam wants to sweat them out, he wants to run until his muscles beg for him to let them take a breath in. He wants to wear his knuckles out, wants to feel his arms aching with the need to stop pushing.

Instead he leans against the seat once he reaches it, closes his eyes and tries to quiet the noise of hs thoughts.

* * *

 

They’re put in a family home that’s given to them for the short trip. It’s going to be a week long, maybe shorter or longer. One can never know what’s going to happen with this business, Daniel warned Liam and Dylan before seeing them off. Liam’s sure it’ll be fine.

Harry looks ecstatic to be here too, he’s been doing nothing but talking about wanting to go out and visit. Liam’s sure that’s got half to do with the challenge accepted words as well as Harry just wanting to not stay stuck in a house for the whole week.

“Just a few hours.” Liam warns before they step out. Dylan sees them out. They’re casual from head to toe, except for Harry who’s wearing sunglasses, a hat Liam hopes he’ll never have to put on as well.

It’s just all bit ridiculous, Harry not wanting to be recognized, but dressing in a way that would attract attention. Even if today’s quite mild compared to a few days ago, when he’d stepped out all in pink with bright yellow shoes. 

The news didn’t fail to mention how contrasting it looked next to his security team. Then they hadn’t failed to mention how Liam was also there and seems that they hadn’t lied about him being hired as a bodyguard after all.

Liam resists the urge to laugh each time they call it that, telling the truth. Only because they’re satisfied with it, then it becomes a truth. Harry’s fingers have started tugging on his sweater, it’s grey and snug and Liam is glad that it looks as heavy as it should feel during this time of the year.

“We could have taken the car.” Liam reminds Harry as they round a street and Harry looks around with a frown that even behind his glasses, Liam knows, must mean that he’s lost. 

Liam’s got his phone pulled out and the Map option on before he can listen to Harry low groan and pay attention to the glare that’s sure to be hidden behind those glasses.

“That beats the purpose of getting to know a city.”

“Don’t see how getting lost makes it worth it.”

“Then it’s a sad life that you’re living Liam Payne.”

Liam looks up from his phone to find Harry’s taken his glasses off and is giving him a serious gaze. Liam expected to see some type of amusement dancing those green but they’re darker, solemn as they hold Liam’s. 

It’s as if Harry’s challenging him to say something about that, as if Harry’s sure those words are what he’s observed and the grating against Liam’s skull gets louder and louder.

He’s forced to look down when the GPS starts talking and startles him out of the bubble that was rising to his chest and trying to boil its way past his throat. Temper Liam. He reminds himself, because there’s nothing to hit right now and if he gets it out, he will regret it. 

He knows he doesn’t want to throw words. He’s got to focus on the task at end. He finds Harry looking around when he looks back up and Liam points to their right.

“Opposite way.”

Harry’s suddenly docile in following instead of arguing about not needing a map again. Because Liam suggested it before they went out, but was turned down with a protest that sounded childish but still, he’s not here to reprimand Harry. Just make sure he doesn’t get into anything sticky again. Or that no one wants to corner him in a situation that might get too physically proving.

Liam’s here because he can fight. He’s not sure if it’s also because he loves it, but somehow. From the time he’s been spending doing this, there’s something he’s been feeling all along. It’s the constant being on edge even if he knows nothing will be happening. 

Having to look out for it, wait for it to happen is another shot of adrenaline that fills in for the lack of actual fighting not happening.

* * *

 

Liam should have known that just because he’s been given just a few hours Harry wouldn’t not make the most out of it. 

They get back to the given house with enough things to feed a whole family, but also enough clothes to last a whole month without ever running out of choices. Dylan looks amused beyond words and Liam understands now why he seemed so relieved when Harry asked Liam to come along instead of him.

It’s a bit annoying. Plus, they’ve done everything while walking. Liam’s had to hold most of these bags, all by himself. Capricious is not something he thought Harry had in him. Of course, he’s only just learning. 

That there’s a reason why he shouldn’t have lowered his guard a week into the job. It’s why Liam’s considering contacting Daniel to get more information on exactly who Harry Styles is and how much more does Liam need to know before the year ends.

The only good thing that comes out of it is the gym that’s downstairs and that Liam has access to anytime he wishes to take a break. He’s more than grateful to not be the only one on duty and more than happy to let Dylan handle Harry’s mood as he gets to unpacking what he’s bought for the kitchen. 

Liam’s not sure if it’s his presence or the lack of reaction earlier when he’d said that Liam’s living a sad life that’s put him in a sour enough mood to not even give him so much as a tiny piece of the Harry he’s been used to getting.

But there’s something happening in Harry’s head and it’s kept his face hard and focused all day long. More than that, it’s kept Liam tensed and ready to burst at any given moment. 

His arms are aching from the load he had to hold, but he’s more than ready when he switches to a pair of jogging and jumper and gets on the treadmill before he can focus on his whining thighs.

###

“What did you do to him?” Dylan’s leaning in and asking and Liam gives a shrug. 

It’s been eerily quiet the whole day. They’re now on a set, watching what’s unfolding from script to acting and Harry hasn’t so much as said a word to Liam through the whole ride to here.

“Nothing.”

“Honeymoon phase faded quickly.” Dylan snorts earns him a hit on his shoulder and a glare that only seems to have him shrugging.

Liam figures this has got to just happen and then it will pass. Because he sure as hell got no idea what to do with it, or what he’s even done wrong.

###

But that’s another thing he gets wrong about Harry it seems. It lasts through the whole week. 

The only time Harry talks to him is when he wants to go out, or when he needs to get ready to go to another place for the filming. Other than that, Liam stays more in the gym and has more company with Dylan than he does with Harry.

He’s not complaining though, the less contact the better. That’s what Liam convinces himself with at least. Now he doesn’t need to stick to Harry 24/7 because Harry’s playing it fair. 

He doesn’t hold Liam back from changing shifts. He doesn’t so much as let even one smile slip for the whole week. Liam ignores the itch under his skin because he can sweat it out as much as he wants and not think about it.

Maya’s there on the last day and as always, she’s the breath of fresh air that she was the first time Liam met her. Her blonde’s been replaced by an orange red that she laughs and argues is absolutely her natural hair colour.

“Wonder who you fool with that.” Liam asks as they’re leaning against the counter. Harry’s asleep, the last day seems to be more about packing to go back to London than work.

“Everyone except you it seems.” Maya throws over her shoulder, from where she’s elbow deep in dishes that Liam assured her he could do but she shooed him away from, the way his mum still does when he tries to help around.

“I believe that somehow.”

“At least you trust me on something.”

Liam laughs, the sound feels a bit foreign what with the sullen atmosphere he and Dylan have been given by Harry.

“He gets like that sometimes, don’t worry about it.” Maya says as she puts the last dish away and wipes her wet hands on her skirt without worrying about dampening its purple shade. “I remember one day I was helping him pick an outfit and I told him that the one he had on was of quite awful taste and he frowned at me the whole day. I think he also ignored me for a whole week after that.”

“Nice to know it’s not personal then.” Liam says without really feeling nice about any of that at all.

“’course not, don’t be silly. Harry’s a sweetheart but he’s also a popstar, he comes with the little quirks that make them so peculiar to the rest of the world.” The way she says it, with her hands waving everywhere and her fingers ending up in a quoting sign. Liam’s endeared and amused enough to laugh again against the rim of his cup.

Then Harry’s voice breaks in with a raspy, “Mornin’.”

He’s rubbing at his eyes, seem to not really know who’s in the kitchen. Like he’s heard voices and know someone’s there, one or two. But then he freezes in the doorway and Liam can see it when Harry remembers where he is, who he is with. 

His eyes fall on Maya first and he gives her a smile. Liam’s missed that dimple he realises. It’s not the same when it’s deepened with a curl of Harry’s lips up, rather than when he’s simply chatting.

Not that Harry hasn’t been laughing, or smiling, or looking amused on set with his co-actors and anyone but Liam. But it’s nice to see it up close. Liam’s not sure Harry’s deem him worthy of seeing it again, personally. So he’ll take any up close he can get. 

Then he takes a sip of his tea and chastises himself for being so fixated on it. So fixated on everything Harry does too apparently. Because Liam’s watching intently as Harry turns to look at him and lets his teeth pull on his bottom lip.

“Liam’s a nice lad but you really need to stop putting on that attitude if you don’t want him to grow fed up before a month’s come and gone, Harry.”

Daniel calls him Styles, Maya calls him with more familiarity and Liam can tell the difference between the two names and how they make Harry either shrink in his seat or tense. Or as it is right now, they slump and he looks like he’s being scolded and he knows he’s done wrong.

Daniel’s got it wrong. Harry listens to Maya, Maya’s the one who’s got the right strings to pull. She gives a sigh and then walks past Harry. “Get breakfast, we’re leaving at four.”

That leaves about eight hours before they can get to the airport and resume schedule. Liam’s disappointed that she’s left him with Harry in the same space, alone. It hasn’t happened during the whole trip, it unsettles him for a few seconds. 

Then he figures, if this is just Harry being himself, Liam should stop worrying or trying to not step on any eggshells. He pulls his phone out and plans to check messages, whatever’ll come and make him not have to focus on what Harry’s doing.

The sound of a cup of water being boiled. Then minutes later, being poured, the touch and light tap of a spoon stirring. Then a chair being pulled. It’s the breeze that passes by that has Liam looking up from his messages. 

Most of them are from Louis, some from Niall about finding some time to meet up again when he comes back to London. It’s a good idea. Liam’s been surprised with one from a student he used to have, asking him if he’s alright and whenever is he coming back because the new teacher they got is harder to understand.

Liam’s turned to find Harry has chosen a chair right next to him. He’s not sure what to expect from that, but it’s certainly not Harry saying, “I got you something.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. For being shit company.”

Liam’s laugh comes out breathy. He’s not even going to ask himself why because it makes Harry laugh too and things just seem to get back to normal. They share a cup of tea and Harry leans in, asks Liam what he’s doing. That’s when Liam figures it’s time to let Harry know about Louis being a fan.

###

They get to London at night. Liam’s not the only one weary and exhausted from the flight.

“It’s jet lag.” Maya tells him as they step in Harry’s flat. Liam nods, a sleepy smile is all he can offer her. Funny how he didn’t feel said jetlag when he was in Berlin but he’s feeling it now for sure. He feels a bump against his back and turns to find an equally exhausted Harry must have been sleep walking already.

“Sorry, didn’t see you.”

“You need to see your bed.”

Harry holds a hand to his forehead, pushes it back in his hair that is starting to look slightly longer. “I do.” He nods and gives Liam a lazy smile. It’s been a quiet flight, but Harry hasn’t slept through it, not even once. 

They’ve been all awake and talking or busy scrolling through their phones. Liam’s put a playlist in his ears for the whole flight. Interrupted only when Harry wanted to show him something of his own.

“Are you staying?” Harry’s question pulls him out of the memories and Liam turns to take a look at where Dylan’s coming out of a room where he’s most likely dropped the luggage they had. Dylan gives him a shrug and Liam turns back to Harry. He’s tired to his bones but Harry’s pursing his mouth, slipping his hands in his pockets and waiting for the answer as if it matters.

It’s hard to believe that this same man ignored Liam’s presence for a whole week but Liam nods. “Yeah.”

Staying means that Liam gets the guest room and not the flat where most of the security that’s chosen for the week get to stay. They change them quite often, then there’s Dylan and Liam who seem to be the only one left as permanent. 

Dylan’s been there since the beginning and he’s seen a lot come and go. He’s apparently the only one who’s gotten along with Harry enough to stick it out through all the ups and downs.

“Let me get new sheets.” Harry says and disappears before Liam can tell him that’s not necessary. Now that he thinks about it, it’s the first time that Liam’s staying over instead of someone else. 

He usually goes back to the flat because he’s the morning shift all through afternoon. Sometimes all through the night and they switch it up then. Other times, it depends entirely on schedules. Liam’s still adjusting to some bits.

Dylan gives him a pat, Maya a hug and then they’re all out of the flat before Harry can come back to get his goodbyes in. Liam heads to Harry’s bedroom to see what exactly is holding him back. What he finds is Harry holding a pair of sheets against him and quietly sleeping in his own bed. So much for wanting to be a good host.

Liam stays there for a bit, in the doorway, hands braced against its frame. Then he steps out of his shoes and walks in the room to do a few things. 

First gently make Harry let go of the sheets he’s got so that Liam can put them on the side. He’ll need them anyways. 

Then lightly nudge Harry further inside his bed and not lying so close to the edge as he was. The last thing is managing to get Harry’s own sheets from under his body and on top of him.

It’s tricky, Harry blinks his eyes open in the process. Seems to be awake for a few seconds but then he just turns around and burrows further in the blankets. 

“It’s hot.” He mumbles while doing so and Liam frowns. He should have thought of that. Harry did mention something about hating to sleep with too many layers on.

But Liam’s not going to disturb him any more than he already did.

###

The guestroom is as bland as the first flat Liam found himself deciding of his current fate in. It smells of bleach and fresh furniture. He makes his bed with no haste and then pulls himself out of his clothes with equally slow actions. It’s when he can finally get ready to close his eyes and sleep that Liam pulls his phone out and fishes for Louis’ number.

_Liam : Guess who got u a meeting w/ Harry Styles._

_Louis : The only best friend I have in this whole world?_

_Liam: No need 2 sweet talk me anymore._

_Louis : Really? Thanks, that was giving me the worst cavities in the world._

_Liam : Haha.  
Liam : Mayb I shld give out this meeting 2 Niall._

_Louis : If you do, remember that I’m a vengeful person._

_Liam : Vry funny._

_Louis : It wasn’t my intention._

Liam laughs at his screen and puts his phone on the side.

Another week come and gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank you for the kudos and comment, they've been helpful in cranking out the last bit of the fourth chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It’s as if he’s telling Liam that he knows, he knows what Liam’s trying to do. Trying to not let the reality that Harry might be pushing through his world, his so well constructed world that Liam keeps watching crumble every day without a mean to get it all back together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me awhile because I wanted to start chapter five first and life got in the way, but it's all settled for now, so have chapter three, hope you all enjoy it!

Liam’s learned a lot through the months.

Harry’s not a morning person. He wakes up with a frown and then decides to go back to sleep even if there’s something to do early in the day. Liam’s not in the working position to know these things, but since they’ve all decided that he’s somewhat of a ‘special case’ and exception, he’s been in that position after two months of working for _dear_ Mr. Styles and that’s now three months of getting used to it.

In total, Liam can’t believe either, but almost half a year has come and gone.

But there’s a reason why Harry can afford to oversleep. it’s the speed at which he finds his clothes and the speed at which he takes his showers. _It’s a superpower_ , Maya likes to joke. Liam’s sure, it tells a lot about where Harry’s priorities lie more than having any type of super powers.

It also would have been a very welcome information on the first day Liam had to wake Harry up. Because Liam remembers almost losing a kidney over the worry he had to do while thinking of what to say if Daniel came in and found out they were behind schedules. For what reason? Because Liam thought Harry’s sleeping health was more important than let’s say a must do interview about his upcoming movie with the co-stars of said movie.

Liam’s priorities are getting as skewed as Harry’s. That’s another thing.

Instead of thinking about how much he’s lost, he wakes up wondering what he’ll find out today. What side of Harry will be welcoming him when he starts his shift. What kind of appointments will he have to attend and when will Liam next get to be thrown out of Harry’s flat and back in the security’s team. 

It’s been two weeks now since the last time he’s made it to that flat, after all. There’s a worry somewhere. Or there should be. Or it should be bigger than it feels right now, as Liam roughly whips the eggs he’s got in a bowl and frowns down at the fact that he’s just now remembering that this is the longest he’s stayed in Harry’s flat.

It’s not as odd as it felt in the first few days.

But the stays are growing longer and longer and more often. Daniel’s the one who usually puts a stop to them, with a look given to Liam that Liam chooses to not even caution because he has no idea why Daniel’s looking at him like he’s telling Liam he knows something when Liam knows nothing of what he might know. In fact, it’s not just the look. 

Last week, they turned into words. Daniel walking up straight to Liam during an interview and whispering that Liam better know that his contract will end in about six months and it’ll be back to his little mundane life.

Liam will be happy to be back to his little mundane life, mind you. Even if his frown deepens and the clasps of his fingers around the whip tightens. Even if Liam startles, almost out of his fucking skin, when he feels a cold touch to his arm and catches the bowl before it slips too far out of reach.

“It’s just me, Liam.”

Yeah, it’s just Harry. Of course it’s just Harry. What’s with the edge Liam? 

He has absolutely no idea even if it’s itching in the back of his mind trying to tell him something. It could even be screaming and Liam still would have no idea. No idea how when he turns around and finds Harry’s frowning but then smiling a little before leaning in close, Liam lets it happen. 

Distances growing shorter feel familiar now. Harry’s breath on his cheek even more than that first time by the door of the hotel’s rooftop. More than that though, the touch of Harry’s light subtle against his skin where he buries his face against Liam’s neck. _That_ shouldn’t feel so natural and right.

Liam’s wondering if Daniel knows about this. Except this isn’t anything, this is nothing.

This is just one of the things Liam’s learned through the months and fallen in so easily he stopped being scared of anticipating, awaiting, wondering when it will come. It’s just Harry being affectionate, because Harry’s like that. 

He’s cautious at first, of course. But Liam caught him shifting at times, times before now, almost reaching a hand and then taking it back quickly. As if he wanted to touch, but felt that the time wasn’t right. 

Then the limit all but snapped one night as Liam came out of his room and found Harry holding a cushion and sunk against the couch. Liam remembers the rough touch to his voice as Harry said “Come ‘ere.”

Liam also remembers justifying it as Harry being exhausted. 

Two weeks without even a day to rest or find his bed? Liam would be a bit out of it too. In fact, Liam was out of it, because when Harry has schedules the whole team does too. 

Except that Liam can find time to switch, while no one can take over and do Harry’s job for him. Still, the excuse stood. Simply because it made it all better to ease into. Better think that, Liam too, had found that exhaustion was enough of a reason.

Enough of a reason to tug any warm presence the way Harry had done, then try to fold his body against that source of warmth. All arms wrapped around Liam’s body and steady breath on Liam’s neck, pricking with each puff he felt on it.

Liam called it comfort. 

Then when it happened again a day later, this time in the morning and with Harry on the stool next to Liam, with only the soft brush of his hair against Liam’s shoulder. 

Liam called it growing ease. Which isn’t so bad. 

Liam likes making people feel at ease, safe. Isn’t that the whole point of even being a bodyguard? That’s been the whole point of him even agreeing to help Harry out.

To save his arse out of a scandal and more rumours, which Liam still does not know exactly what they were but he still isn’t burning with enough curiosity to ask. 

It is but the flick of a flame at the moment. 

Ironically, this felt more like a full blown foyer from the first time it happened. But also very cautiously, Liam’s going to ignore all the point of heat that it flares up against his chest, past his fingertips, up his neck, down the pit of his stomach. 

It’s a difficult task, but it’s always made easy when Harry feels this pliant and content and sighs like Liam’s body being there to support him somewhat makes it better.

Liam thinks himself a bit selfish, for liking that thought. For having that thought. For letting his own hands settle against Harry’s sides and letting himself blow a puff of a laugh when Harry’s sigh is felt as a tickle.

“It’s just me.” Harry repeats, something he does a lot. Liam nods, can’t help but pat Harry’s sides a few times. T

hen he wishes for earth, wants his mind and body back to himself. Less of the shelter Harry seems to have made them out of. Even if Liam’s more than happy to let them be just that, stay there, let Harry take in as much as he wishes. 

But Liam’s thinking of Daniel’s words and how right they are too and he’s tugging Harry out of his space.

“If you’re like this to everyone who works for you, I’m surprised all your scandals are from outside sources and never within the company.” He throws a joke, even if his voice sounds tight around the words. 

Liam’s hoping Harry won’t catch onto it. 

But mostly, he’s wishing for his breath to return back to him as Harry finally relents and moves away. 

Not too far though and Liam’s not going to lie, the disappointment he almost felt vanishing at that, is too good of a feeling for him to frown over it. Maybe later he’ll do it. When he’s by himself and thinking things over again, he will, he knows it.

“I’m not though.” Harry’s eyes are lowered when he says that. If Liam wasn’t so used to how the volume of his voice is most of the times too low to be caught, he would have missed that. He almost does too, because he was getting ready to move out of Harry’s space, before the glee turns to worry right in front of Harry.

“What?” Liam asks anyways, blinks, hopes for obliviousness to be surrounding his face. Nothing but that. It’s such a tiring thing to do these days, play stupid. Liam never thought he was the type, but apparently, there’s a lot of things he’s learned these past five months. 

A lot of them have got to do with Harry, sure. But the ones that are the most unsettling are the ones that Liam’s found himself _having_ around Harry.

“I said,” Harry sighs, worries his bottom lip for a few seconds and Liam’s hung onto the rest of that line. “Never mind.” But also swallowing the relief when it doesn’t come and he gives a shrug as he turns around and Harry’s steps are heard leaving the kitchen.

“Harry!” Liam calls out right before they can entirely fade and gets a peek of Harry’s face behind the wall that leads to two bedrooms, one of which belongs to Harry. 

Liam’s not going to stare and think about the hopeful and curious glint in Harry’s eyes, he’s going back to his eggs and finally putting them in the frying pan before the thing burns from the lack of something to cook. “Daniel said to be ready for 10.”

Harry’s hum and footsteps become a background music to the unsteady rhythm of Liam’s heartbeat.

* * *

 

Harry lives up to expectations too. 

Liam wouldn’t say that he takes his job with a side observation of everything Harry does, except that it would be a lie. 

But his life’s a bit of that. 

Follow Harry around, take a break, live his own life. But barely so, because he’s on constant call and Harry’s grown to use that option each time Liam’s not around. 

Liam’s been called before for nothing other than Harry not wanting the switch to happen.

Harry’s capricious, beyond words. 

Yet everyone just seems to push that aside the moment he turns around with a smile or a lean against their sides. 

It’s not a lie that Liam says Harry’s affectionate. His limbs just seem to absorb everyone around him, as if he constantly needs warmth and reassurance from every human body that is within reach.

Harry said once that it is the only reason why he got the reputation of going out a lot and flirting with anything that moves. 

Because Harry talks to him too. Liam’s put that as another reason why Harry constantly wants him close. He’ll talk and he’ll say things Liam’s sure he doesn’t tell anyone else. It’s not that Liam thinks he’s that special, it’s just instinct that tells him that. It’s the way Harry turns a bit hesitant when he does so, at times.

Some words feel as if they were let out surprisingly, then he eases into it. Fingers’ grip tight on his bicep and lips pulled with a lick of his tongue. Liam often wants to reach with his own hands and hold Harry when he does that. When he looks uncertain, awaiting for criticism.

“Ready?” Liam’s turning his head to the blinding smile Maya gives him. He gives her a nod and she opens the door a bit wider as Harry comes in strolling behind her. Liam’s smile is as immediate as Harry’s dimpled one.

They’re doing something Harry enjoys more than singing apparently. Something that requires a manager to be around, to come and tell him all the things he needs to hear before going. Something as simple as going clubbing apparently requires a whole lot of prep talk and threats and warnings and words to be careful.

Harry always repeats them to Liam when they’re in the car, as he is doing now, nose upturned and looking like an outright twat. Liam still smiles, the kind of smiles he’s learned that no one can notice. Against the corner of his mouth as Harry nudges his side, put his head on Liam’s shoulder and stays there until they get to the night club in question.

“You should come in, yeah, and dance too.” Harry says when the car starts slowing, announcing that they might be getting there soon.

“I’m here to watch after you, not dance.”   
“Makes it sound like I’m a boring case.”

Liam couldn’t help the laugh. He’s always more relaxed when there are no eyes around because the small training Daniel gave him, talked about always keeping a stern expression and never mingling because his focus had to stay sharp and his face had to say that he’s ready to beat the shit out of anyone who tries anything funny. In exactly those same words.

“Trust me, Styles, nothing boring about you.” It’s sincere and Liam’s tongue is darting to pull at his bottom lip because it’s so sincere it’s put a blush on his cheeks. 

It doesn’t help that he can tell Harry might have pulled away but he’s keeping his eyes on Liam. He feels it, but Liam keeps his own right ahead. Cowardice, is something he’s starting to think he needs to master.

“I might want you to elaborate.”

The car’s come to a stop now, Liam’s giving a shrug as Harry makes no step to get out. Harry’s door is pulled open nonetheless and he all but reaches over to pull it back close. 

That will startle the driver, Liam’s sure. 

Liam wants to open his own door and get out, he should do that. Make a round and wait for Harry by his own door as they should be doing right now. But for some reason, Liam’s still sitting here and Harry’s asking again, “Why am I not boring?”

“I think the media covers all of that pretty well.”  
“Yeah.” But Harry’s disappointed and it’s in his tone and Liam turns to him with a small smile, before he’s rolling his eyes and leaning against his seat. There’s a tiny battle between giving in and indulging Harry and keeping stubborn and not doing anything.

“You’re kind of a spazz, Harry.”  
That doesn’t look like something good to say, Harry’s frown facing him says just as much.

“In a good way, a bit everywhere. Stubborn, sensitive.”  
“How does that not make me boring though?” Harry’s frown disappeared but now traces of curiosity have smoothed his features. 

Liam knows this expression, he’s seen a lot while Harry was listening to the director on how he should play a certain part of a scene.

“Just does, for example, when someone tells you something you don’t agree with, you don’t throw a fit. You simply ignore them and either do as you wish or follow with their words and stop talking to them.” Liam finishes with a shrug, “That’s amusing.”

“That makes it sound like I’m a difficult child.”  
“A very big one.” Liam immediately agrees. It earns him a punch on his arm and Liam laughing anyway because Harry’s not looking like the kind of displeased to the point of choosing to forget your existence. “You’re also going to be making everyone question why you’re still in the car and you know rumours are quick to be made when it’s with you.”

“Yeah, because I’m a big catch.” Harry rolls his eyes, Liam opens his door before he can let him have more time.

There are days like those, when Harry looks at him and asks him just a few more minutes before they can step out and meet flashes. Liam often time says no, he makes sure to do so at least. Without flinching. Because Daniel’s told him that even if Harry’s looking as if he can’t do anything anymore, it’s always best to let him do it and be done with it.

If he’s let to be lazy about keeping up appearances it will only hurt him in a long run. Liam understands. It’s a bit like training to be a boxer. There’s never a day of training he could miss, any minutes, any seconds was spent building his body to encounter any hardships. 

There was no limit and if there was, it was best to break it rather than wait for it to soften before giving it a blow. Even during these little events, celebrities still found themselves under the sharp glare of flashes.

Liam looks away from them, not by lowering his eyes, simply by letting them stay on Harry’s back. Harry might complain about the fame at times and how he’d like a day without any of this the moment he’s seen in public. Right here though, it’s an awfully sure thing that he belongs. 

The only reason why the flashes are here and a whole team has appeared is because Harry’s management team always makes sure to turn any public event into some publicity stunt. Liam learned that early on, when two months in he started wondering why Harry wasn’t living up to one rumour.

Not that Liam keeps track of them, but maybe he’s read more of what Louis sent him over the days. Harry is his employer, Liam calls it just trying to get to know the person he works for a bit more. The rumour in question? That Harry liked having a good party. Never threw any, but always went to any that he could attend. 

Yet two months in and all Liam had been following him to were meetings, interviews, filming sets and on and on. The moment Harry so much as got a break, it was stay in until there was something planned. Two months of just that, interrupted one night as Liam was replacing one of the other bodyguards for a night shift.

It wasn’t a pretty sight, Harry sitting with his phone on his lap and glaring down at it as if he could fix whatever problems came from it with that. Then Harry looking up, most likely ready to tell whoever came in to fuck off. He does that.

 Everyone knows that he rarely swears for no reasons, so when he tells anyone to get lost with a curse that lies heavy and dry on his tongue, they don’t let themselves be told twice. But Harry’s frown only deepened and Liam asked, because Harry didn’t tell him to get out.

So, Liam asked and Harry held it in for a few seconds. Then a few more. Long enough that Liam thought he wouldn’t bother answering. But then Harry had a derisive snort as he swung the phone in the air and told Liam he would get to attend one of the hottest event in one of the hottest clubs in London.

Liam remembers saying, “You don’t look too happy about that.”   
Harry retorted very quickly and still fuming, “Do I pay you to worry about what my moods are?”

Liam kept his mouth shut after that, knew he struck something, but had no idea what it was. In situations like these, it was better to fold rather than attack the enemy up front. 

Life with Harry surprisingly matched a lot with a fight in the ring more than Liam would have ever thought. Hell, Liam would have never thought anything in this glamorously painted lifestyle would match with the swelling of a jaw after a blow, or the ache of curled fingers when the workout has been too intense.

But Harry’s cut words are sharper than the wounds a punching bag can inflict on knuckles and Harry’s silent disagreement are harder to take than a low cut that knocks the air out of burning lungs. 

Liam’s accidentally matched everything Harry does to something happening during a fight after that day. They went out, Harry danced. All long limbs, languid in his movements and plastered against any other body that sought his. 

Harry danced, even if a bit awkwardly, confidently and like the world had him in the palm of its hand and everyone could grab a piece long as they knew they weren’t unplucking it, rather just borrowing it. 

When they pulled too much or grabbed too hard, Harry would gently put a hand on theirs and reject the offer to be torn apart. He would do that with a smile too, come back to the bar where Liam had to stay the entire night, get a drink, throw Liam a lazy smile and go back to the dance floor. 

There were also a lot of pictures being taken inside, something Daniel made sure to tell Liam to keep to a minimum.

* * *

 

Liam remembers the first time he took Harry out to live one of the vices the world loves gluing on his image every time they get back to it. 

Tonight is no exception. He’s forgone the stool at the bar and has put himself in a corner where another pair of security, whoever they work for, have gathered themselves. The thing with these kind of people, they don’t talk while working and Liam used to find that so odd. But talk and when you lose sight of your client you’re the one in trouble.

It was an information given to him by Nick, one of the guards in Harry’s security team. They weren’t that many and Nick’s new in this team but not in working as a bodyguard for celebrities. 

They’ve done the renewal of the week for the month, another two and then they’ll be renewing again. These are positions best filled by students too, who seek experience and just enough hours to get a bit of cash and not have to suffer through working and studying.

Liam’s used to the silence now. But still finds it odd that it’s something that’s required to be focused because the truth is, Liam will admit it without flinching. There’s no way he can lose Harry, whether he be in a storm of a crowd or mixed with anyone who looked even remotely similar in style. 

Liam can’t be fooled, won’t be fooled. Harry’s Harry and he’s the only thing Liam’s paid to keep an eye on and Liam will do it.

Liam’s so used to doing it that it’s become like second skin.  So used to it, that he’s not sure how he’s going to spend another six months doing this, then watch it be over. 

He’s gone past missing what he had, he’s now settled in habit with what is now. He recalls his mum’s phone call two days earlier, inquiring on what he wanted to do once he was done with the contract. The shock came with Liam working around it with no answer.

He went with the safe route, told her he might ask Mrs. Jane to take him back if that’s possible. His mum hummed, thoughtful. 

The way she did when Liam asked if he could take the deal and just forget it happened. The one she had when Liam told her that he was thinking of asking Danielle to marry him, the one she basically always has when she can hear the doubt in Liam’s voice. Because she reads him as openly as if she’s written him.

Liam’s found himself leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. He’s done feeling odd when he does that and finds that his company are still as trees. Eyes hidden behind black glasses, when the club is already barely lit. 

Liam used to think this is what he was going to end up looking likr, he’s more than grateful that he didn’t. Restlessness seems to be more present tonight, because Daniel’s words and his mum’s hum won’t stop buzzing in his brain. It’s a few seconds of distractions, of his thoughts wandering and he’s caught, startled out of his skin when he feels a nudge against his shoulder.

Harry did that on the first night too. Came, bumped Liam’s shoulder and then leaned in to say, “ _I don’t like being forced to have fun_.”

Tonight he’s leaning in and asking, “Come and dance with me.”

Liam shakes his head, “Can’t.”

“Just one.”

Harry rarely insists. When there’s a no, he sulks, he pulls away, takes it and just leaves with his disappointment. So Liam’s turning to look at him because of the second try only to find Harry looking down at his shoes and not directly at Liam.

“You’ve not run out of choices for partners, Harry.”  
“Yeah, but—“ Harry’s looked up and Liam shakes his head before the idea so much as holds a stand for an argument.   
“And I’m working.”

“Is that all this is to you?” Harry quips back. Liam wishes he could see his face better than this. “Work?” Harry goes on when Liam doesn’t answer and there’s a bit of a silence. 

One Liam’s not sure he wants to fill. It feels like a trick. Like anything he says will not be the right thing to say. It’s stilled time enough for Liam to weigh his thoughts, Harry’s question and what he can give out.

“What el—“  
“Forget it.” Harry says. Liam knows _that_ forget it, it’s the one that he uses when he wants to know, wants to do something, but is not sure of what the outcome will be. This is Harry’s scared ‘forget it’.

Liam looks at the dancefloor while Harry stays quiet next to him. He scans thoroughly, knows that there are cameras ready to do just about anything to get a good snap. He doesn’t want to risk it, not even to lighten Harry’s mood. But he wants to lighten Harry’s mood, he wants to. Whatever the reason.

“If you go back to having fun, I’ll give you a dance back at the flat.” So he offers. He feels damn unsure of the promise and if he should even make it. But it’s already out and Liam’s leaning away when Harry turns his head. Almost brings their faces too close.

“You’re promising.” It’s more of a statement than a question, even if coming from Harry as it is, it sounds like a wonder.

“I am.”

Harry doesn’t take the offer to leave immediately. Liam’s sure he’s taken it. He’s just not sure what Harry’s going to do with it after, or right now. 

Until he’s doing it and Liam knows there’s a smile against his ear. Liam feels a breath when his own’s stopped incoming and outgoing, it’s all but keyed on Harry’s cologne and the brush of his lips and the words, “I want it slow.”

Harry takes that and goes back to the dancefloor.   
Liam’s left struggling a bit more with the fear of turning blue if he doesn’t inhale soon. When he does, it’s with a shutter of his heart that skips all the way to his throat. He wants a fight, he wants sweat, he wants the burn, God—

His eyes have followed Harry even while his thoughts were temporarily impaired and when his focus zones back in, it’s to find Harry’s eyes on him for a few seconds. Yeah, Liam wants.

* * *

 

_Louis : You know they say he’s a flirt, but you’ve never caught even one make out session._  
Liam : ‘cause Im not here 2 be a creep, Lou.   
Louis : Or more like you’re being boring polite Liam instead of getting all the gossip.   
Liam : Bcuz theres no gossip.

Another assumption that’s been cleared and has stayed that way until now. Harry playing around. 

Liam hasn’t seen so much as one girl, at least from when he’s around and he’s around more than any of the other bodyguards. So Liam will assume that is a lie, a baseless rumour, or a fabricated one to fit the image as is the one about Harry loving night clubs.

But then Louis texts back, _Harry’s a flirt though, right_?

Liam’s fingers still on the screen of his phone so that he can look to his side where he’s felt Harry’s breath go steady minutes ago. There’s the smell of alcohol clinging to his breath and clothes, his cologne all but drowned with thousands of others. 

Harry always leaves with a smile, more pictures to take. If Liam wasn’t there to make them stop, he might never make it home. If Liam didn’t keep a hand on Harry’s back and gently pushed him further towards the car, he might never make it. 

He might get swamped and swallowed whole by the duty to go to where he’s called. With the public, with the media.

If Liam’s shoulder wasn’t here, Harry might have to lay sprawled on the seat and risk sliding as the car took a turn or abruptly stopped. Or his temple might have to press against the hard surface of a window, or his neck might have to crane itself uncomfortably as he leaned it back against the seat. 

All those options are simply normal ones that Liam’s sure anyone could survive through. Still, he’s glad to be here. Liam doesn’t want to tell Louis what Harry is, who Harry is. Because he’s not sure he has the right to, but more importantly.

Liam just doesn’t want to.

* * *

 

Somehow, Liam thought the promise would be forgotten. Because Harry was still sleepy by the time they got to his flat, the one that’s just for show, leaning most of his weight against Liam and barely talking as they made their way to the door. 

It opens itself to the same empty state Liam’s glad they only get to see occasionally. After Harry’s finished an event and after anything that ends past the mark of midnight.

He expects Harry to head right for where the bedroom is, send a goodbye Liam’s way and Liam will settle for the couch. He has an acute dislike for the rooms in this flat, maybe because they remind him of the first time he stepped through. 

The situation then and how Harry’s warm against his side now seem like they don’t belong in the same universe. Yet, this Harry is the same Harry who was sitting on the arm of the only couch in the living room and asking Liam if he could have that.

If Liam could be a hero, Harry’s hero.

“You keep your promises, don’t you?”

Liam’s hands were starting to tug his shirt out of his trousers. Because Harry did make a beeline to the bedrooms, but he’s standing in front of Liam now. Hands braced on the arm of the couch and watching Liam intently from where he is.

“I don’t like breaking them, at least.” Liam answers easily despite the sudden coiling apprehension he can’t swallow around. 

Harry’s head lowers, it’s just a second of broken eye contact before he’s fixing Liam again and pushing up. Standing as he is, Harry starts rounding the couch and holds out both of his hands.

Liam’s seeing a smile but he’s also seeing the wiggle of Harry’s fingers and hearing the clear lack of music for any kind of dancing. The excuse is too good to not be used.

“There’s no music playing.” So Liam takes it, voices it out.  
“Doesn’t matter.” Harry shakes his head, smiles as if he’s telling Liam it’s silly to think of such a detail. 

Of course it would be, to Harry , a silly detail that there’s no music. That Liam’s even mentioning it as if Harry doesn’t have ears himself to notice, to know.

Liam shakes his head too, his voice carries with a short chuckle. It’s a rough sound past his lips, as the distance between him and Harry closes and Harry’s hands find pans of his jacket and start tugging him forward. 

Because to Harry the quote, if you cannot go to the mountain, bring the mountain to you, fits as a second skin.

Liam’s not a mountain though. 

He’s flesh and bones and breath that gets lost more often. Then he’s flesh and bones pressed to Harry and temple against Harry’s cheek while the silence surrounds them. It starts awkward, no surprise. 

Liam’s not sure how to do it without any sort of melody at first. Harry’s hands settle easily and they stay, they press against Liam’s jacket and then they glide further behind, until they’re on Liam’s back.

Harry’s already moving before Liam can think of a way to go along with it. Harry’s always one step ahead, is what it feels like. Liam laughs at first, his feet not going along with Harry’s, his own hands tentatively reaching. Better that than staying idle at his sides, but he’s not sure where to touch.

He almost calls out to Harry. But stops when Harry’s forehead falls on his shoulder and then angles to press against his neck. Liam finds his ground with Harry’s breath against his skin, warm puffs as Liam’s hesitant reach turn gentle and settle on Harry’s shoulders. Slide around them, a hand finds its place in Harry’s hair. An undercut that keeps reappearing because Harry’s turning a war movie.

“Did you find it?” Harry mumbles.   
Liam startles a little before he can _hm?_ In question.   
“Music, you found it?”

Liam shakes his head, Harry’s hold on him tighten. 

It starts small, very small against the crook of Liam’s neck, then it rises, Liam feels it against Harry’s chest and his shoulders. It seeps everywhere then. On the hand Liam’s found moved to Harry’s neck, trembling against Liam’s thumb.

Harry’s singing. 

It’s a soft melody that doesn’t pick up, and goes with every steps he takes. Liam finds himself following its rhythm, following Harry’s lead.

This is new and Liam doesn’t know what it is at all, because isn’t Harry a pop star? 

Liam hasn’t heard him sing a song, not even a single line in five months. Here it is though, confined within walls because Liam needs music for them to be able to dance. 

Harry’s tone is low and soothing too. Liam thinks of lullabies as Harry pulls back and his lips stretch on a smile. The silence falls back when Harry purses his mouth, he’s red from his neck up to his ears.

The red creeps up his cheeks, jaw, ears, throat. Liam’s left wondering where else it goes when it travels down. But Liam’s also quickly shaking the thought and his head, looking down at their moving feet still. It’s a move against Harry starting to lean down, against Harry’s forehead touching his.

It’s somewhat of a hold on the control button that Liam’s been trying his damn hardest to not smash. Harry’s forehead presses to the top of his head, briefly.

When he pulls back, Liam looks up.

Harry leans in again and Liam huffs with a smile. There’s no avoiding the pressure against his forehead this time. Liam’s hands slide from Harry’s hair, neck, down his back to settle on his arms and he licks his lips. Only to quickly lower his lashes when Harry’s eyes track the movement and flick back to Liam’s.

Liam wants to say something, break this, whatever this is. 

Except, Liam’s been playing stupid long enough. He knows what this is. He’s only ever been attracted to girls and these five months have been about keeping it at that, little excuses.

Harry’s good looking. He is, there’s no denying that even men must have that thought. Liam’s read it, heard Louis say it too, even Niall. Hell even his dad has gone on about it, weirdly enough.

So Liam lets himself think that he wasn’t being—strange with noticing details. Harry’s dimple, strands of hair outgrowing others, stubble that came in the morning disappearing after Harry takes a shower. The smell of strawberry clinging to his skin each morning and the copious amount of peach juice sitting in his fridge each Friday night.

Liam leans away, Harry leans in. Liam needs to stop this from happening whatever is happening. Liam needs to stop thinking that, whatever, it’s not whatever. It’s a dance as old as time, he’s had this sway before with Danielle, with Sophia. 

But he doesn’t swing _that_ way and Harry’s someone he works for and this is not a good idea and he’s not sure why when he opens his mouth to say as much it gets stuck in his throat.

Liam’s gaze darts up to find Harry’s eyelids lowered.   
Harry leans in, Liam’s too busy staring to stop it.

The kiss is soft, a mere touch. 

It’s a breath against his lips that Liam welcomes, what with his own lungs starting to burn from the tight hold his throat had on his intake of air. 

But when Liam inhales, it’s with the fruity taste of cocktail clinging to Harry’s lips. It’s now pasted onto Liam’s with that brief contact. Liam finds himself repeating it, that he doesn’t swing that way. 

He’s never felt an ounce of attraction for the same gender, and he’s sure that if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to kiss any of the men around him.

Or any men for that matter. But Harry’s shifting, moving away after that tentative touch and Liam’s going with him. Feeling as if he’s the one with the foggy brain, the one who probably downed cocktails after cocktails and not Harry. 

Liam leans in and meets Harry before he can fully pull away. He locks Harry’s lips firmly, and they both take in a breath with it. It feels like relief and just enough pressure to want to keep it as it is then, it’s opening and closing again.

Liam has no idea how long it lasts. When it got wet with Harry’s tongue seeking his and Liam’s doing the same, when it grew with a few tingles from light nips that allowed them to breathe in and then get right back to kissing. Liam has no idea. 

But when it stops and time resumes and he can focus on the tic toc of the clock, it feels like hours have gone by.

His whole life might have passed behind his closed lids and he wouldn’t have noticed. He most likely wouldn’t have cared either.

“That wasn’t a good idea.” Liam’s words rush out before he can think of hesitating. 

Harry shakes his head and his fingers start pressing against Liam’s skin. Because somewhere in the middle of kisses after kisses, he got his hands to untuck Liam’s shirt and slide under it. 

Liam’s not any better though, with a hand doing the exact same thing and feeling at ease where it is against Harry’s side. Under Harry’s shirt and the other one pressed to Harry’s cheek, thumb lightly brushing back and forth as Harry leaned against the touch.

Liam’s screwed, entirely, completely screwed.   
Because when Harry leans in, seeking his mouth again.   
Liam simply waits to gives in.

* * *

 

Liam wakes with a jolt, hands immediately closing around the reason for the pull out of dreamland. 

It turns out to be flesh against his palm and he hears somewhat of a choked yelp before he’s blinking his eyes open. It’s been a year since the last time he’s felt this cold of a sweat from waking up. 

The remains of the nightmare dissipate and he finds he’s short of air as he quickly sits up and recognises Harry’s as the half surprised half worried eyes now on him.  

“Fuck, sorry, did I hurt you?” Liam asks in a hurried tone as he runs a hand across his face, cannot stop the furrow of his eyebrows and looks down at the hand that’s now smoothing a thumb along Harry’s throat. Which he retracts quickly when he becomes aware of that.

“No, hm.” Harry clears his throat, his own hand covering the place Liam’s left vacant. 

“Sorry, that doesn’t usually happen.” Well the nightmares were a recurrence until Liam started seeking therapeutic help about two years ago. 

But the gripping of whatever was giving him chase in them, that never became something. Maybe because he lived alone and there was no one and nothing to grasp at but air when he startled awake. Cold sweat and heartbeat unable to find a steady rhythm until he’d downed the glass of water by his bedside.

“Must have startled you.” Harry gives a shrug, he’s sitting on the rug, facing the couch where Liam ended up sleeping. Now Liam’s frowning and leaning against the back of it, the question in his mind immediately makes its way out, “What are you doing here?”

Harry shrugs again. Liam’s not sure he will get an answer when it takes a few minutes, the clock ticking. Harry has a clock everywhere in his flats. There’s always one in the kitchen, one hanging in the sitting room. One in his bedroom. Liam disables his whenever he wants to have a good night sleep, it reminds him too much of the sound of a ticking bomb.

“Woke up, couldn’t sleep, then it made me think.”

In the months he’s worked for Harry, Liam’s learned that when Harry talks to someone about thinking. His thoughts usually involve them in it, as well as something to do with them, somewhere. 

Like that second night on a rooftop where Harry almost slipped off the edge of it and Liam grew wary of even letting him close to any buildings that had access to a rooftop. Harry claims it was an accident, Liam knows it was an accident.

But accidents like that quickly become tragedies. Liam’s not sure how to categorize Harry’s obsession with high buildings, rooftops edges and wanting to swing and walk on their thin line as if his life’s worth just that. 

A swing in the air, a push of the wind too strong, fumbling feet, a trip and then nothing but a thud and the crushing of bones.

“I’ve never seen you fight.”

Liam blinks, finds Harry’s eyes, holds them. Harry’s fingers are holding his neck the way Liam’s still feeling the tingle of it against his own hand. The burn’s rising to his wrist and Liam’s sure it’s not going to stop its ascension.

“You want to see me work out?”   
Harry shakes his head, “Fight, Liam. Don’t think that’s the same thing as a work out.”

Liam knows that. Liam knows more than anyone else that fighting and doing a work out is not the same. But what he does now, he doesn’t name it as fighting when he’s asked. He says he boxes, he says he works out. A few punches and kicks in the ring don’t count as fighting. 

If there’s no thumping of a heart trying to break through the prison of its rib cage, if there’s no blinding light each time the skull’s hit on and the sudden urge to keep survival mode when the feet stumble and the body screams for rest. 

When the sweat taste like the last bottle of water on a deserted island, when the saliva’s nothing but gurgle one wants to spit because it feels inconvenient, like a distraction. When jaws ache, and hands only want to shield and hit, shield and hit. 

If there’s none of that involved. If there’s no instant of the world stopping for that moment when the bell rings and the crowd cheers and you stand on your feet, while someone else is panting on their stomach. When there’s nothing of that, it will never be fighting.

“Mum kept a few videos.” Because that’s all Liam can offer to anyone who wishes to see it with their own eyes. Liam doesn’t fight anymore. He just moves his body, moves his fists, without any real drive behind it. 

It’s as if he’s holding and scraping his knees and palms against a string that’s long been cut and does nothing but make him bleed the longer he hangs onto it. Because it will never feel the same, it will never be the same. “I could ask her for them.” He gives a shrug.

Harry’s answer is, “Or we can go see your mum.”  
“Harry, it’s—” Liam pauses, finds the clock above the telly, “Four in the morning.”

“And it’s a Sunday, it’s always the perfect day to see family. We can leave in two hours and be in Wolverhampton by 8 or 9.”

Liam starts saying something, about Harry maybe having something to do and waiting to talk about this with Daniel first or management or anything because Harry can’t just decide to bring himself to Liam’s life. Because Harry’s life has got to be more monitored than that and this isn’t how it works.

But Harry’s way ahead by then, talking about texting management to let them know he won’t be available today. He’s always so quick to throw himself in things that he wants to do. 

Already standing and then sitting next to Liam and then pushing into Liam’s space and pushing until Liam’s cornered against the arm of the couch. Liam’s suddenly more than aware of what happened yesterday even if they went to sleep without talking about it and Liam convinced himself that Harry had enough drinks to maybe—put it on the alcohol.

It wouldn’t be so bad to do so. 

But it’s all rushing back without a second given for Liam to find a sort of way to deny it again. Harry kissed him last night. It wasn’t a dream and Harry’s leaning in like it’s about to happen again and Liam’s going to let it happen again. His eyelids are lowering and Liam’s letting the pressure, the anticipation pull his lips apart but nothing happens.

When he blinks up at Harry, he finds Harry’s gaze intent on Liam’s lips. But nothing happens. Harry simply stays there, so Liam wills his mind to do something about the situation. He only finds himself with hands that lift to stay awkwardly between wanting to push but only pressing against Harry’s chest.

“How do you know where my mum lives?” Liam’s all but a breath away from kissing Harry and here he is talking about his mother.   
“Louis said you were from there.”

Liam’s not sure how Louis managed to put that in one conversation where he met Harry, _only once_. 

But Liam’s sure Harry is telling the truth because he knows Louis and the kind of information shield he is. The kind that fires them right back when he thinks it’s going to get him something or when he reads that it’s important and he can’t hold it in.

“I asked.” Harry lowers again, bumps his nose to Liam’s before touching Liam’s cheek with a finger, “I asked a lot of things.”

“Yeah?”   
“Yeah.”  
“Like?”

Liam finds his head being tilted, both of Harry’s hands now holding his face and Harry’s knees pressed to the couch, a firm solid support against Liam’s thigh. 

“Your favourite colour, and what you like to eat.” Harry’s words are first muffled against Liam’s neck. Then he pulls back and Liam finds himself with a sight full of the red across Harry’s face and uncertainty flashing across every line of it.

Liam’s thinking of that conversation. 

Which might have happened between the time where he went to listen to a brief being given to the security team and had to leave Louis alone with Harry for a little while. 

No wonder he came back to throats being cleared and Louis obnoxious laughter that said he’d caught something big and was intent on holding it until, again, it favoured him to let it go.

Then he’s not thinking at all because he’s closed the distance between him and Harry and is seeking a kiss. Harry pulls back a bit too quickly and that leaves Liam frowning.

“You said this wasn’t a good idea.”   
Liam did, he remembers. He said that, then he told Harry goodnight and watched him quietly nod, touch his lips and then turn on his heels and leave.

Liam did that, Harry’s right. So, Liam shouldn’t be here, disappointed, eager. Liam shouldn’t be wanting to not talk and do more of kissing Harry, that’s not how it works.

“It’s not, but--- _God_ ,” Liam stumbles on his words and Harry’s just there, silent, waiting it out. Like he hopes Liam has more to say and Liam does. He looks up at Harry and swallows, “Let’s say I’m in trouble.”

Then Harry opens his mouth but Liam’s ahead of him this time. A thumb pressed to Harry’s bottom lip and there’s only one thing on his mind so he says it, “It’s just kissing.”

It doesn’t sound as hopeful as Harry sounded last night and almost made Liam’s resolution crumble right there. Almost made Liam let Harry just kiss him until there were no questions or doubts to fill in the space between them. It’s not that, it’s more of a firm statement.

Liam’s even more proud of himself for it when he hears Harry’s soft moan right before he pushes Liam’s hand off his mouth and agrees by continuing to just kiss Liam.

* * *

 

This isn’t a good idea but Liam can’t bring it in himself to repeat the statement. 

Harry’s already sitting in the passenger seat, appointed Liam as the driver without an ounce of hesitation. So used as he looked to being given what he wishes, that Liam can’t tell him no. 

It’s been awhile though, since he’s been to his hometown so Liam’s not much of a liar, he’s excited at that too. He’s also shaking with the thought that this is his.

His life, something that’s been slipping from his grasp for five whole months. He’s been living alone since he turned sixteen and decided to head to London into one of the most known program to eventually become a professional boxer. 

Sixteen. It’s been nine years since Liam’s been home like this, without any holidays in sight and having given his mum just a simple warning.

Harry wanted it to be a surprise even, but Liam was adamant on at least sending her a text. She replied the way Liam knew she would. Giddy, looking forward to it, the amount of kissing smileys she sent him frightened Liam a bit. But the sentiment is shared. 

He’s not even sure why Harry wants this trip. Certainly not to see what Liam’s made of, there’s a thought lingering that Harry’s not saying everything about this impromptu trip.

But, that’s Harry is it not? Liam’s learned that he doesn’t say everything that runs through his head. Unlike Liam who tries hard to keep it all in but watch everything spill before the lock’s been shut tight. 

Harry leaning against his chair and pulling his legs up while he shuffles through the range of cds they brought for the road. Filling up the entire space he’s occupying with limbs that seem to know where to go even if they don’t always have that ability.

Liam’s seen and caught his fair share of stumbling before stepping out of a car, or from missing a step when climbing up the stairs. Little incidents that had Harry looking sheepish, sometimes embarrassed and made Liam’s hand steadying him grow heavy with his weight but never flinching until Harry decided to pull away from the support himself. 

Except then Harry got a warning to watch out when that one article about Liam being always there to catch Harry before he falls on his face surfaced on an online site. Liam’s still wondering to this day who has the time check even the smallest things that happen online, it’s left him frowning, made Harry shrink in a shell that kept everyone around him on their toes.

Liam hasn’t caught him being clumsy ever since that day. It’s a good thing of course, that Harry watches for where he’s going, makes for a few less scares and a few less catching him and Liam’s glad about it. 

His palms press to the wheel of the car a little tighter as Harry waves a cd in the air before opening the reader and sliding it in.

“Blues.”   
“It’s summer, Harry.”

Harry’s turned to him when Liam quickly glances over. It’s a stolen one, so long gone but Liam’s not missed the grin on Harry’s face and he’s not missing the sound he makes when he slides down his seat.

“Summer blues, then.”

Liam hums, gives a nod, then focuses on the miles they leave behind and those that have already been passed.

* * *

 

The GPS’ voice monotonously announces that there’s twenty minutes left when Harry stirs from a nap he fell half an hour into the drive. Liam hears a pop, Harry’s stretching, legs falling off the seat. It must have been uncomfortable, he’s not sure how Harry manages to doze off anywhere. 

It’s got to be a habit grown out of never having a bed wherever he goes and Harry goes everywhere. Rarely does he find the peace to find his bed, Liam’s lived it until now and he’s not sure he wants to be doing this the way Harry does.

Every day, every night, for years and years. This isn’t a life Liam wants to ever find himself living. He turns around a corner, familiar row of houses emerging as he does so. Fifteen minutes and now his fingers are tapping along to the rhythm of the song that’s passed already five times in the past two hours. 

Liam remembers being fifteen and running along the road they find next. He remembers the sweat that felt like the world would be his, the moment he pushed past another minute, then another. Just ten more minutes mum, he would scream when she told him to come back inside.

Whether it was winter or summer, didn’t matter the season or the weather. Liam always made sure to keep himself on top of everything. He wanted to stop panting through every jogging routine and he ended up giving himself that as a gift on his sixteen’s birthday. 

Running along the street and smiling at neighbours who found it odd but also amusing, entertaining. That young man who always runs by their houses, punching the air as if he was wanting to be a rocky of this generation.

Except rocky wasn’t real. As fictive as the world Liam thought he could be owning. Here he is though, coming back behind the wheel of a car and nothing but nostalgia and bitterness tight in his throat. 

There’s the sting that reminds him why he only visits during holidays, why his mum never asks him to come over, why she understands. Liam’s so attached to the dreams he thought he took with him out of this place and here he is, with them buried and burned.

Without even the ashes to carry and sprinkle across the pavement that still needs to be done. He’s sure that if he steps out of the car he’ll be smelling strawberry cakes and the unmissable scent of grilled fish. Because every Sundays, Mrs. Millers, their neighbour on the left made sure to have enough fish to give out to everyone around her. She’s of course passed away by now, but her daughter has kept to the tradition a few times.

Liam helped the old lady at times, knocked, offered a smile and a plate and got a pat on his head. From four all the way to thirteen years old, he can still feel the firm and gentle touch of her palm on the top of his head.

Five minutes in, he’s slowing the car. The silence has passed unnoticed, as deep as he dug himself in his thoughts, it’s a wonder how easily Harry pulls him out of it. With what? The mere touch of his fingers against the back of Liam’s hands, tapping away at the rhythm that’s now shaking in Liam’s feet.

“Alright?” Harry’s voice is but a whisper next to the firm and jovial drag of the musical note of Muddy Waters’ Mannish Boy beginning to play.

Liam hasn’t been alright in years. But he nods. Harry’s fingers pull at his until he’s slowing in front of his house with one remaining hand on the wheel. The house that wore his dreams in such bright colours and that Liam tarnished of grey. 

Liam comes to a stop without parking, simply so he can stop driving for the day, stop moving for the day. He leans against his seat and looks down at where Harry’s playing with his fingers, pulling them apart, letting them fall before holding them in his own hands and then looks up at Harry’s frown but Harry’s gaze on him.

It looks softer than he thought it would be, makes Harry’s green fold back and show traces of yellow dusts that could go unnoticed easily. If Harry wasn’t close enough for Liam to see, he would have completely by passed it and thought Harry’s eyes were darkening but they’re not and they’re pinning Liam where he is. His limbs heavy but fingertips warm against Harry’s palms.

“So this is your house.”  
“Home.” Liam nods.

Harry hums, turns sideways, pulls a leg up and folds it, trapping his ankle under his weight. He drops his head on his seat and licks his lips.

“Are you going to let me in then?” 

Liam’s not sure he wants to go in himself. He’s never sure if he’s allowed to go in, something he’s sure his mum would hit him for even thinking it. 

It’s the first time someone else is witnessing the pause he usually takes outside before gearing himself to finally meet her eyes and meet her embrace and her perfume, ever so strong but soothing in how it permits no other scents to wrap itself around the house.

Liam usually comes, stays outside for a bit, finds a quiet spot and repeats silently to himself, _I’m a failure, I know it. I failed, I know it. I crashed my hopes, I know it. It’s my fault. I failed, mum, I failed._  

He chants it until it’s nothing but a ball ready to break at the seams shall even a brush of fingertips go past it. 

Repeat and repeat until it breaks while he makes his way to the house and when he knocks, he finds that he’s smiling and accepting his mother’s hugs, needing them, needing her reassurance and everything she’s ever just given him without a care in the world. Without a doubt in the world.

His fingers tighten against Harry’s hold.

“Okay--yeah.”

* * *

 

Liam’s mum takes in Harry who’s tucked his hands in his pockets and worn a smile the moment the door opened. Looking like he usually does when he wants to ask Daniel for a favour and knows he’s got to pull all the odds in his favours. 

Mainly, Harry just pulls tight on his cheeks and hopes the little magic of his dimples do all the work. It’s the look that says he wants to please but is also nervous and eager for it to work, the sincere but also sort of overdoing it that Liam works hard to not be too weak too these past few days.

He’s not even sure why Harry’s pulling that on his mum but she would be charmed without, Liam’s sure. Granted for now, all she does is throw Liam a look and he gives her a shrug. 

Harry’s the one who asked Liam to keep the bit about him tagging along a secret, he talked about loving to surprise people. Liam did argue that his mother doesn’t know Harry that well except for the fact that her son works for him now, but still, Harry’s Harry and Liam held on to that wish and granted it.

“When a superstar tells you he wants to go somewhere, you can’t say no mum, trust me.” Liam explains and presses his palms against Harry’s back to push them in as his mother steps aside. 

It’s supposed to just be a walk through and then Liam would let go of Harry’s back, except Harry leaning against his hold and Liam’s keeping still because he knows if he moves Harry might stumble backward and into an old habit he’s kicked. 

Or so Liam thought. But he grows warm as they stand there and his mum passes by them with a tilt of her head in Liam’s direction then to the kitchen.

Liam feels like a prisoner, hands caught as they are, until Harry straightens with a cough. Until Harry seems to be surprised by his reaction as well and at least looks as embarrassed as Liam feels right now. 

It’s a bit of a relief, knowing that he’s not the only one baffled by whatever happens where Harry is involved. Liam wants to prod further, wonders if he can prod further. He fucking sat in the car and let Harry see him in the most vulnerable state he’s always in each time of the year when he comes back home.

It would only be fair that the favour can be returned. Even if one could argue that the image of Harry hunched over, sitting on the arm of his couch and wondering if wanting to be protected not for his fame, his money, but because someone genuinely cares, could fill in that spot. That, it could fill in any vulnerable part of Liam.

It might be why Liam signed the contract.

Then Liam’s blinking, the smell of cupcakes that his mum’s been baking stronger and a warmth from the opened oven sinking against his skin. He’s blinking and he finds that it’s Harry who is pulling the batch of cupcakes out. He’s somehow managed to wear Liam’s mum’s mittens already and mark a point where it concerns sharing her kitchen.

Harry always looks like he’s at home wherever he is, wherever he goes. It’s an ease Liam envies right now. He feels out of place everywhere, even more in a house that holds photographs of a smiling young Liam it will never get back.

“You’re going to stand there and let the guest do all the work? I taught you better than that Liam Payne.” His mum’s chastising comes, at least. 

Liam walks further in the kitchen, is ready for the onslaught of familiarity to sip in with discomfort. With the feeling of _where do I place myself Mum? So, that I don’t seem too big, so that I don’t make you see me being small_?

But Harry wraps his fingers around Liam’s biceps and pulls him to his side. Harry stands there, caught in between Liam and Liam’s mum and then hands over the whip to Liam before anything can be said. “

Listen to your mum, assist.” Then Harry starts placing cupcakes after cupcakes in front of Liam while he adds, “Make these dolls creamy.” He says that, effortlessly just makes Liam join in.

Liam knows his mum’s watching but he can’t hold them back, a smile and the roll of his eyes but also the eagerness of his hands to get to the task assigned to him.  

* * *

 

Liam’s come to visit his mum before. But he’s never felt like she was really, truly, fully happy when he was there. Not because she didn’t miss him, or wasn’t happy to see him. 

But it was seeing him as he was. Liam doesn’t like worrying her, but it seems the more he thinks about not doing it, the more she catches onto it. Right now, Liam’s not even sure what he’s thinking or doing.

He’s going to worry about it later, that his thoughts have stopped and his tongue’s sweet with cream and strawberry flavours. 

There’s the tea too, warm and Liam can’t remember the last time he sat and finished a cuppa that his mum made for him without having her remind him that his tea was getting cold. 

The only thing they’ve used their voices for is to laugh at the telly and to laugh at Harry as he chatted on and on.

“Would have liked to see the whole family.” Harry says somewhere in between a small break as they’re focused on a crime show and his mum turns, Liam catches her gaze. 

She looks so rosy, with bright eyes that he’s realising he’s missed. 

He always knew there was more of a misty feeling to them than beaming after he quit boxing and rarely looked at the pictures of his old self when she would have guests and tell the tale of Liam’s childhood.

But knowing without wanting to face the truth, then being pushed to watch it without the usual blindfold that everything’s alright even if it’s not, are two different kind of feelings. 

Liam’s glad he’s got company, because he’s caught wanting to choke on the relief and pang that it springs.

“They would’ve liked you too. Ellie might have been a bit of a fan. She’ll be upset she missed this.” But it’s also because this was rather abrupt and yet Liam knows that if his whole family could have been there despite the surprise visit. They would have.

It’s not a holiday, one of his sisters is finishing her master and has a full working schedule during summer. The other one lives with their father because one of them had to stay with the man. Liam’s always been only about his mum and he’s never going to change that.

“I can always come back.” Harry says, and Liam quickly turns to look at him. This was a sudden decision and Liam was sure that it was going to be just a one-time thing. 

So, he’s more than taken aback but Harry’s not looking at him, his eyes are on Liam’s mum and Liam’s snapping his head to her. He’s been made a proper outsider in his own house and it becomes even clear when she nods and seems even eager for that to happen.

“You’re always welcome to.”  
Except, it seems that all this sugar and sweet comedies on the telly has mashed down everyone’s brains and Liam wants to be that person who ruins it a bit. 

“You never have time though, don’t get ahead of yourself..”

Liam’s fingers are held tight against his arms, folded as they are and he feels guilty the moments the words are out. Not because he’s said them, but for the way he’s said them. He expects that look Harry gets when he’s reprimanded or unhappy with a comment. The one that’s caught between dejection and actual sadness. Harry takes more offense to being told no than anything else in the world.

But he looks nothing like that when he looks at Liam and Liam meets his gaze.

No, Harry just still looks pleased with himself and he has a grin pulled around the thumb he has a habit of always biting. 

It’s as if he’s telling Liam that he knows, he knows what Liam’s trying to do. Trying to not let the reality that Harry might be pushing through his world, his so well constructed world that Liam keeps watching crumble every day without a mean to get it all back together.

Then he had to sit through a few hours and watch Harry just talk and be himself and make it seem like nothing was a farce at all. Liam can’t remember the last time he felt real, as if his life wasn’t a comedy relief. 

Here’s Harry, though, tilting his head, looking soft and tender and inviting and Liam wants to soak it in. He wants to push against Harry’s sides, have more than their shoulders touching. He wants to push his fingers through Harry’s hair and god he wants to feel the warmth that’s on Harry’s cheeks, all the way down to his neck.

Liam tries to talk his way out of the silence that’s rendered him breathless, but he stutters. Of course, he fucking stumbles and decides that the few, “Hm, er—l--” are proof enough that he needs to stop talking for the day. Or get a time out. So, he clears his throat and excuses himself out of the sitting room.

* * *

 

Liam turns the tap on, gathers enough water in his palms to splash over his face and then he wants to see what he’s been looking like all day. 

His cheeks have started to hurt, from the laughing. His mind has started to feel numb, from the lack of thinking and just listening to Harry’s voice and watching Harry talk and replaying, over and over, the fact that they kissed. 

That Liam’s never thought of himself as attracted to any men before but he’s kissed Harry and he’s just thought of doing it again.

There’s a ridiculous thought then, that if witchcraft does exist, then Liam wants to file a report for being bewitched. See? It’s ridiculous. 

He’s got nothing about the attraction itself, except that it’s odd and it’s not sitting that well within him. 

For the only reason that, there was Danielle at first. A bit sharp at the edges, young, wanting to live. Excited at what Liam was going for as a career, ready to follow him and then rushing past when she found that he wasn’t that person anymore. The one she wished to have a kind of future with.

When Liam quit boxing, he settled for something he thought could work. The want for something of his own, a family. A plan that wasn’t going to be done soon if he wanted to be a full professional. But since that path was done and closed, he wanted a family. He wanted to make Danielle his wife, wanted her to be the mother of his children.

But when she left and told him that he was looking for a replacement for something he lost with boxing, he knew she was right. That it wasn’t fair to do that to her, make her a rebound for a career that he’s only killed himself. 

Then he threw himself into finding something to do, anything at all. Went back to college, took a few courses, came out with a diploma that could barely lend him anything he enjoyed. Decided to apply for a position that was given to him on a golden plate, a friend of his had been teaching the same thing Liam’s doing in the same school Liam was in and acted as a reliable source for Liam to Mrs. Jane.

Liam met Sophia and did the same thing. Clung. Build dreams, planed a future. Wished for it, clung, clung. Then she pulled out and told him the same. She wanted a future, she wanted a family and a husband and children, but she wanted them with someone who would love to have them too. 

Not as a second option, not because it’s the only thing left to do, but because they want it too, just as bad as she wants to.

The dilemma was clear. Danielle hadn’t wanted the kids but she’d wanted someone who could at least not put her a second choice, Sophia had wanted it all but she said Liam didn’t. 

She thought she saw something Liam couldn’t understand, still didn’t, up to now. Looking at a face he’s not sure belongs to him, thinking of thoughts he never thought would belong to him.

Liam’s fought so hard to find a place to fit after he couldn’t where he wanted to the most, he’s fought and pushed past so many barriers. Some have reacted, jolt him across the room and shut him out, one has opened, but has never made it seem as if his mind hadn’t shut down for years.

Right now, he feels open and raw, ready to bruise even at the touch of fingertips. 

Not just any fingertips. But Harry’s.

Where’s the future though? Harry’s a popstar, a term Liam most often mocks despite experiencing the severity of it each day. It’s only to make Harry smile when it gets too tensed and he’s got to act as if it’s not bothering him. 

Liam’s teaching him a coping mechanism that comes with Liam’s hands against his shoulder, rubbing lightly, or grimacing at someone who’s thrown a pique that’s made Harry’s frown and uncomfortable.

Liam’s been slipping right through Harry’s routine and the moment Harry returns the favour, he’s all but wanting to grow back thorns and prickles and shoves him out before it’s too late.

Still where’s the future? Liam shakes his head, he goes back to what he told Harry. 

It’s just kissing. Now it’s just kissing. Then it’s Harry inviting himself to Liam’s house, talking to Liam’s mum like he’s known her for ages. Then planning another visit. Then making Liam want to snuggle him up on the couch, his mum’s couch, for fuck sake.

Liam’s bewitched. It makes sense. Then he’s pulled out of his silly conclusions with the vibrations he knows very well. Work phone. He pulls it out of his pocket as quick as he’s used to now. It’s mostly used for emergencies and delivering any schedules change. Daniel’s voice cuts through, sharp, accusing. “Where is he Liam?”

He’s taken to using Liam’s name now instead of his last name, especially when he’s not pleased with something Harry’s done.

Liam’s not thinking though when he says, “Home.”   
“Home? Both flats are empty.”

Then he’s thinking now when Daniel snorts through the phone and Liam’s blinking, clears his throat. “No, not what I meant. I meant home, my house. We’re at my house.”

“What the bloody hell are you doing there?” 

That’s the question of the year and Liam’s agreeing with Daniel’s bemused tone too. What the hell was he thinking letting Harry talk him into coming here? Home. To Liam’s home. Where Harry’s now at home. 

God, Liam’s hearing him laugh with his mum and he’s leaning against the door of the bathroom to bite the fact that it’s making him smile.

“We’ll be back tomorrow.” Liam’s surprised by that, by saying that. 

Instead of _tonight_ , or apologizing for indulging Harry again. Liam’s already hanging up too and then turning his phone off. 

Irrational as it may be, there’s a contract that does stipulate he can’t get fired and he has to finish a whole year before being rid of his responsibilities. Liam does know he will get scolded. 

But he wants to keep that sound, Harry’s laugh, open and raspy, all the way through the night before Daniel and the world can box it into the commercialised version Harry carries around.

Liam feels like he’s grown out of his own skin when he walks out of the bathroom. Harry immediately looks up at him, he’s lying on his back, has stolen Liam’s spot on the couch with it too. 

Liam holds that gaze, he couldn’t have not had he wanted to anyway, it washes over him, subtle lingering. Then he lowers his eyes and drops to sit on the carpet, by the end of the couch Harry’s made his.

Liam’s mum starts talking, about why Harry’s made her laugh, and Liam thinks _just a little bit more_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He feels like he can afford anything, he feels light as a feather as he shields his eyes from the sunrise and waits for when he’s got to land—or crash._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it! I finished all five, the last part is going to be shorter but I'm so glad I finally got to it! It's so rare to get things completed these days what with work and life, I hope you enjoy this chapter. The kudos did really help in getting the last one out, each time I'd get a notification I'd be pushing myself, you've got to do this, do it girl, so thank you for giving this story love <333

Liam stopped thinking. That’s what explains the fact that Harry’s in his bed, leaned against the head of it, and turning pages of a photo album his mum put in Harry’s hands before she went to sleep. Liam stopped thinking, head in his hands every time Harry mentions a picture that is either embarrassing or quite hilarious, not for Liam though. Just for Harry. He laughs and looks sometimes back and forth between Liam’s face and some pictures as if he’s trying to figure out if it’s the same Liam here now and captured there.

“Yeah, same eyes, same nose, different hair.” Liam says at one point, arms held up and Harry nods.  
“I know.” His eyes go back to the album, but his voice carries on, “Cute then too.”

“I think the word should be, handsome, Harry.”

Harry rolls his eyes, Liam loves seeing him do that at times. It makes him look young, that’s why. Liam’s fingers, in fact, Liam’s whole body has also decided to follow with the not thinking anymore concept and that’s how he finds his fingers are pinching Harry’s sides and making him startle and frown down at them.

“I bruise easily, this can be abuse.”  
“It was just one pinch!”

Harry looks at him for a few seconds, then shakes his head and Liam can see that smile that’s dying to appear but does not show. It stays in Harry’s eyes and the tick of his jaw as he’s adding, “It always starts like that. It was just a pinch, your honour! It was just 10p, your honour! It was just a pinch, Harry!” When he grows quiet and Liam’s laughing with confusion more than anything else. He waits until that quiets down before leaning in and catching the last of Liam’s sigh against his lips. Harry pulls back from the kiss, brushes his nose against Liam and says, “Just a kiss.”

“Two.” Liam flushes, the word out before he’s thought it. But Harry kisses him again, slower, softer. Right until Liam’s breath is starting to feel too caught and he’s pulling back lightly to take it back in. It doesn’t last, barely three seconds and it’s cut short again. He feels Harry’s soft sigh against his cheek and Liam exhales, breathes in.

It’s Harry that sinks down his throat, against the flush of his cheeks. Harry with his fingers on Liam’s throat, a thumb stroking, pushing against his chin and then finally letting Liam not turn blue when he pulls away and bites Liam’s chin.

Liam can’t help but laugh at the bite and Harry coming back up to nip at his nose too, which he scrunches lightly and pulls away from Harry’s mouth. “Just a bite, Liam.”

“Mhm, two.” Liam shakes his head lightly.  
“You’re never going to ask.” It’s a bit abrupt, it has Liam’s frowning in obvious confusion at what Harry’s talking about. He knows Harry’s talking about something they probably discussed before now, before today maybe even before this whole week. So, it’s abrupt, but Liam knows it has its reason.

“Ask what?”  
“Why, hm.” Harry jaw tightens again, his eyes lowering, fingers falling off Liam’s face and now trying to find Liam’s hands against the bed. “It was such an emergency, for you to sign the contract. For everything to--”

This time Liam fills in after a few seconds of silence, “Calm down.”  
“Yeah.”

Liam remembers this coming up on the rooftop, Harry looked the same way he does now. The emotion dancing across his face is lighter than the one then though. He looked like he wasn’t sure he wanted to be asked but also expected it to come then and as if he had to answer if it came. Liam finds that ridiculous, no one’s got to answer everything they’re asked.

Tonight, Harry just looks like he might want to say it more than expecting Liam to ask about it.

“It might be a bit too late to say this and it might be kind of obvious but.” Harry’s fingers tangle in Liam’s when his palm turns over, when Harry finds it and Liam holds onto the link. “I’m, hm, gay.”

Liam doesn’t immediately find the words, mostly because they’re not here. Not because they’re hard to find either, they’re just not here because as Harry said, a bit late to say it. Assumptions were made on his part, he won’t lie. Why else would they be like this? Why else would they have been kissing just a few seconds ago? Then again, assumptions could have been slightly misleading as well, Harry could have been bisexual.

It’s weird, that it’s not something he’s ever thought of. He wonders if it works like that in to her people’s life, if they look at someone else and wonder immediately who they allow in their bed, in their lives in a way that suggests more than friendship. Harry’s hand squeezing his makes Liam jolt out of the thoughts, also make him realise he might have prolonged that silence to the point where it might be taken the wrong way.

He makes to remediate to the misunderstanding, gives Harry’s hand a squeeze back and cranes his neck to look at him, “A bit late, yeah.” Liam’s lips are twitching with the words, a smile would blossom, but the amusement is more evident in his eyes. Enough that it doesn’t need his lips to even move.

It’s Harry’s turn to be silent, hold Liam’s eyes as he is now and just keep quiet. The fact, though, that his gaze is not vacant, holding, intent and searching has Liam feeling like he’s going to say something else. He’s going to add to it and Liam’s not sure of where Harry’s mind is right now. Uncertainty has never sat well with him, especially now.

When Harry lowers his gaze, and purses his mouth before asking, “So why are we kissing Liam?”

Liam finds himself swallowing but unable to look away before Harry’s looking back up, eyebrows up then down. A quick motion that may want to make the question less heavy than the way it lands n Liam. But the truth is there, in the uncertainty of the answer to give to Harry.

At least, one other than, “Because we want to?”  
Harry licks his lips before saying, “You want to kiss me?”

The weigh is starting to slip from Liam’s shoulders, it has found a place now against his chest, not pressing but just holding it with difficulty while he nods. He makes to lower his eyes too, wants to not let whatever is showing right now on his face to Harry. Liam feels nervous, out of place, dry throat, sweating palms and heart beat racing as he admits, as he nods.

Harry doesn’t give him the time to recoil what his eyes might be giving away. Liam only ever feels like an open book with his mum, but here he is, unsure of what he can be showing. His eyebrows furrow and the prickle at his eyes makes him blink. So, he’s glad, that Harry’s finger under his chin lets go to slide against his cheek, press, linger, continue its way against his ear. That Harry pulls him in before Liam can think about wanting to steel himself, take away from the bed and the pressure of Harry’s warmth against his side.

That Harry’s kissing him, softly, as if they weren’t heady seconds ago. As if their tongues hadn’t brushed and breath mingled and Liam hadn’t bit on Harry’s lip and drawn out a moan he’d smiled to. No, it’s just slow and soft and lips that seem like they’re just figuring out how to kiss Liam.

It still leaves Liam breathless, not as if he’s run out of breath. Simply as if he’s never taken in an inhale, not until Harry stops and pushes in again and then it’s back to more than just lips brushing against each other. It’s more hands in Liam’s buzz of a cut, trying to grasp and the little sound of frustration that leaves Harry when Liam laughs against his mouth. The one that has Harry moving his hands from Liam’s head to his neck and Liam pulling away, tilting and making way when Harry’s hands tighten around his throat.

Harry takes a breath in there, against Liam’s neck and it’s ticklish enough that Liam’s toes are curling with the puff of air against his skin. His fingers reaching up to hold Harry’s forearm and try to make him let go. Harry’s smiling against him though, his teeth are grazing and when he bites, it makes Liam squirm for entirely different reasons. Liam who purses his mouth around the soft sound that comes up, almost out, then opens his mouth when Harry’s touch to his neck turns moist.

When he pulls at Liam’s neck with teeth and tongue and lips pressing and sucking, Liam’s breath stutters around Harry’s name. It’s a beat too late that he holds a hand to his mouth while pulling away from Harry’s mouth and hands and fingers, flushed down to his neck, Liam wonders if he looks as dazed as Harry does.

Most likely than not he thinks, most likely that he looks worse because if Harry looks like that from doing this to Liam then Liam must be look twice as worse from having Harry do that to him. It’s raw and new and yes, there’s the thought of why are you stopping Liam, why are you pulling away. But that’s more than kissing and Harry’s just sucked a bruise on his neck.

Right, a bruise, right at a place that’s most likely hard to cover up. Liam brings a hand to where he’s still feeling the tingle of Harry’s mouth. His eyes catch Harry’s moving with that movement and he flushes against his palm.

“That’s not safe.” Liam clears his throat, shakes his head when all Harry does is arch an eyebrow at him. “Harry, it’s not.”

“Right, you’re right.” Harry answers but still looks more amused and like he’d do that again if he was given a rewind button to redo and the truth is Liam would let him. Harry’s grin threatening to pull his lips is contagious, it makes Liam roll his eyes but it also makes him bite away a smile.

Harry takes that single moment of Liam relaxing against the head bed to lean back in but Liam’s hand is up before he can further, pressed to his chest and Liam’s eyes narrow. He means to chastises, reprimand, remind Harry that they should be on the road first thing tomorrow morning.

But Harry leans in despite the hand on his chest and his mouth finds Liam’s ear, “You know what makes me happy?”

Liam frowns, wonders yet again, where Harry’s mind is gone to as he questions, “What?”

Instead of getting a verbal answer, Liam gets a hand on what he’s been trying to completely ignore. The hard on that’s sitting his trousers, pressing against his boxers and that started when Harry’s hand tightened around his throat.

That’s Liam’s dick, against Harry’s palm and yes, Liam’s more than indignant of a yelp before he’s pushing off the bed entirely and standing up with his hands held out to stop whatever else Harry might think of wanting to do. “Time out, alright?”

Harry leans back against the head of the bed and holds his hands too, looking as if he’s been behaving this whole time. Looking like he will be behave from Liam having requested. Liam doesn’t buy it, but there’s just one bed here—and a guest room. He almost forgot about that because Harry made himself at home in Liam’s room before the suggestion was even made.

“You know what we’re going to do?” Liam says, swallowing at the way his voice cracks. Then clearing his throat at the way Harry looks at him. Internally, he gives him the instruction of holding Harry’s gaze, not playing right into that again because he could have sworn he’d read something close to Harry asking him if they were going to continue what they just started and Liam had an almost knee jerk reaction to climb right back there and say yes, do just that.

So, no, no looking at Harry if it short circuits his plan. “You get the guest room, it’s late and you have schedules tomorrow and Daniel is going to kill me for even bringing you here.”

“Daniel will live.” Harry says around a groan, he’s moving though so that’s a good thing. He’s moving and then going for the door, Liam following behind, head lowered and fingers itching to reach for his neck again. He’s got to figure out a way to hide that tomorrow, he can feel it stretching his skin, pulling and he knows it will be darker tomorrow.

“Hey.”

Liam startles a bit, almost bumps right into Harry and finds hands holding onto his shoulders, steadying him. He looks up to find Harry’s frowning down at him. “You’re thinking of how to hide it, yeah?”

Liam shouldn’t feel guilty about that, this is an emergency. In fact, he should be angry, Harry’s his employer for Christ sake. This isn’t a leisure trip—well, it was, partly.

“I wish you wouldn’t.”  
“Whaa—” Liam’s eyes widen slightly before he’s shaking his head, “Harry, no one can see this.” By no one Liam mostly means Daniel because Daniel has said some things, Daniel has noticed more than Liam even knew. This isn’t alright, it isn’t okay, he can’t be thinking about how Harry wants him to be wearing a hickey—his hickey—like a brand. Even if he is now and it makes him purse his mouth around a smile, too easy, he’s being too easy.

“God, just go to sleep, you’re turning me into a disaster.”   
“I still need you to show me the guest room.”

Liam knows that, that’s why he was following.  
“And be a good host and give me blankets, new sheets, proper ones and pillows.”

“You’re pushing it.”  
“Am I?” Harry tilts his head and Liam’s smiling, unable to stop that from happening anymore. He’s not quick enough to avoid Harry’s hand against his cheek, so all he does is sigh and press against it, “Or you could let me sleep here.”

“No.” Categoric, firm and even though Liam’s leaning in as Harry does too and takes in that kiss with the same firmness Harry presses it against his mouth. Lets it go with the same softness Harry does, he still pushes them out of his bedroom with all the strength of a man who knows how to be resilient in resisting can and laughs quietly at Harry’s soft groans and mumbling as they head to the room right down the hall.

* * *

 

_Harry : Forgot to continue the story. They wanted you to go with the bodyguard contract because the media might have started speculating something else._  
_Liam : Like?_  
_Harry : Let me finish, when I say now ask questions you may ask._  
_Liam : Go 2 sleep, Harry._  
_Harry : You’re being quite rude to the person who hands your paycheques._  
_Liam : Ok, oh big, gr8t boss, wat is ur story?_  
_Harry : They might have dragged you in for much bigger, for example, that you were my secret lover._  
_Harry : But they’re not supposed to know that I am into well... men._  
_Harry : That night, I was on a date with someone, well coming back from a date when it happened. They were supposedly linking it back to you since they couldn’t find who my date was and I didn’t want that to happen, not to someone who first rescued me and second was innocent in this case._  
_Liam : That’s sweet Harry._  
_Harry : I’m not finished._  
_Liam : Im srry, plz continue._  
_Harry : I want to stop lying, I really do, I would have if they’d found him. But, he is in the closet too and he refused to keep in touch after that. Cut ties with me, refused to pick up my calls, basically fell off the surface of the earth. So, that night when I was talking about being saved, I was just heart broken and you were here and you’d helped me once so I thought I could just throw that at you again. I didn’t think you’d take it, the contract. But I’m glad you did._  
_Harry : I’m also sorry if this has been a burden to you_  
_Liam : A big one_  
_Harry : I said I was sorry._  
_Liam : ik_  
_Harry : Not much of a talker in texts, are you?_  
_Liam : Your filling in that spot well._  
_Harry : I’m going to sleep_  
_Liam : Good_  
_Liam : gnight_  
_Liam : Im glad I signed the contract 2._  
_Liam : Sweet dreams xx._

* * *

 

The trip back is quiet, peaceful. The miles go by unnoticed and swiftly, Harry sleeping in his seat through the minutes that tick and the hours that are spent on the road. Liam’s fingers keep a quiet drum of a low volume radio playlist that Harry insisted on right before dozing off. It’s while turning the corner to get to the car park of Harry’s flat that Liam starts worrying about everything driving pushed away. It works about the same as when he goes to see his mum during the holidays.

The drive there is nothing but silence that is only filled with what is playing on the radio and then as he parks, the thoughts start assailing him, left and right. He comes to a stop in Harry’s parking spot, listens to the engine stop, unbuckles his belt and leans against his seat for a few seconds of respite. Harry said nothing wrong has been done, whatever he had to do yesterday had been nothing that important and Liam would like to trust that, more than anything in the world. The thing is, Harry’s selective with what he deems important and what he doesn’t.

A little something learned from living with him these past few months. Like the one day Harry came out of a night club before the closing time, which would be unusual behaviour by the fact that the rumours say he’s such a party goer. Then told Liam that Daniel said it was fine, that he could leave early since he had something in the morning the next day. Which was only in five hours, he said.

Then, put Liam on the spot when they came back to find Daniel on the phone in Harry’s flat, waiting, eyes narrowed and wanting to know why exactly Harry had left a party. Where he’d been somewhat of a guest of honour before it even finished and Harry had said that it wasn’t that important, that’s why. Even if the next day it was all over the news that Styles might have lost his touch, might be getting too old even for his age, that he might have found love and left early to go find that special someone. Liam’s still baffled by every single assumptions and story that just leaving a party too early can garner from the media and everyone else who keeps track of Harry’s every movement.

Point in case, Harry’s not always a trust worthy source. He does things as he wishes, does not care much for the consequences—at times, caprices run rampant left and right. Like now, sleeping without a care in the world and leaving the worrying for Liam instead of sharing at least that bit of what transpired at his mum’s house. Liam can’t shake him out of his slumber too, can’t reach and sway him back and forth and demand that Harry stop dreaming, stop doing what he wants, especially not where it concerns Liam.

He can’t, his hands are tied, glued to the steering wheel. He takes in a breath and Harry seems to stir, maybe from the car having stopped moving, the motion that put him to sleep being interrupted. Whatever the case, he’s blinking sleepy eyes and fixing them on Liam, catching Liam watching him.

“Doing it Twilight style now?”  
“What?”

Harry wears a smile, one that tells Liam that he isn’t quite awake yet. The one that he sometimes has on when Liam’s taking the morning shift, the early one, the one where Harry’s lips curl slowly and his eyes blink endlessly as if they’re trying to get rid of the weight of effect of just waking up. He looks—soft. That’s the only word Liam can find, soft and like he could curl up around himself and Liam would just go with it, reach with his arms and whole body and wrap Harry in that cocoon he’s trying to keep around himself and tell him to go back to dreaming.

This isn’t what’s supposed to be happening though, Liam shakes his head to remind himself of that.

He opens his mouth to say something but it’s lost with Harry’s, “You’re thinking too much.”

Liam swallows around his yeah, yeah, he’s thinking too much but is there anything wrong with that at all? By the way Harry’s furrowing his eyebrows as if he’s trying to solve the fact that Liam might be running his thoughts over and over, it seems like the answer would be yes. It’s a good thing then, that Harry reaches then to take a hold of one of Liam’s hands, a good thing because Liam was about to sound snappish the moment he spoke.

He was about to ask Harry how he should feel then, what he should be doing, if not thinking about every possibilities and God, he missed teacher. He missed just sitting there, giving people what they needed for an exam or a test or to just learn and no one having to tell him to stop doing whatever he’s good at and doing then. Because Liam was good at that and he’s also pretty good at overthinking things.

It’s why he’s not in the career path he thought he would be his whole life, its thinking and thinking and he supposes that says a lot about what Harry does instead of thinking. Since it seems he’s exactly where he belongs, where he fits. While Liam’s just there, hanging between two lines, never quite in his own place.

But it’s a good thing that Harry’s thumb is pressing light circles against the back of his hand because Liam finds himself letting out a sigh, not quite relief, just one that eases him against his seat. Now he’s not thinking about anything but Harry’s hand against his and Harry’s fingers linked through his and that’s a fixed feeling. It’s oddly reassuring, quieting down everything except for Liam and Harry waiting in the car before they get up the lift to Harry’s door and a possibly very angry manager awaiting them.

These sounds like far away nightmares though, with Harry’s hand squeezing his, this little space they’re sharing feel like the only reality that exists. Liam’s scared shitless of that and at the same time appeased as he sighs yet again.

“Good?” Harry asks after the silence stays for too long. It was comfortable though, enough that Liam’s got to clear his throat before talking, risking choking or make more of a squeal if he tried without doing so, his throat feels tight around the words even after he clears it. So, he nods with the meek and subdued, “Good.” That he gives as an answer.

Liam feels instantly off balance when Harry lets go of his hand but he shakes it off, he’s not a child anymore, growing restless just because no one was holding his hand, for God’s sake. The car’s doors are opened, they stepped out and then there’s the beep of it being locked and Harry’s footsteps rounding and falling in next to Liam’s.

Their steps fall in tandem, slow to get to the lifts, maybe for the same reasons, maybe not. But it’s an agreement Liam feels in the way Harry’s shoulders bump against his and how Harry leans against his side while they wait for the lift to get to their level. Seconds tick, one, two. Levels lower, five more before it gets to them.

When it shows two more, Liam gives in the itching in his whole arm and reaches over to wrap it across Harry’s back. It earns him a soft groan and a chuckle that is muffled where Harry’s tucked his head. Against Liam’s jumper, then against his neck, where Harry presses a kiss before he also slides an arm around Liam’s shoulders.

That’s how they step in the lift when it finally dings and opens in front of them. It’s a bit of a struggle at first and there’s quiet laughter when Harry almost stumbles but Liam’s hold on his back tightens enough to not let him lose balance. Which follows with Harry turning to lean against the rail inside of the lift, right as the door closes. Liam’s body goes without his mind catching up, he blames it, in that split of second, entirely on the fact that he feels warm and Harry’s tugged him.

A firm sharp tug, with fingers that have a strong hold of his wrist. That’s the reason he goes so willingly, without any second thought. As for leaning in at the same time as Harry did and giving into a kiss or two or three—or enough that he stopped counting. Liam will admit, that—there’s nothing and no one to blame for it.

Except for the want to do it.

* * *

 

Daniel’s anger is more felt than said.

Liam knows that he acknowledges what happened a week ago—because it’s been that long since he’s so much as heard a word from the man himself. They see each other, because there’s no other way around it. They work for the same person of course they’re bound to bump into each other from time to time. But that’s the awkward thing too, Daniel has made sure to not have to even pipe one word towards Liam.

For a week.

Under any other circumstances, Liam would have welcomed the silent treatment. E would have welcomed it weeks ago when Daniel came forward with that threatening tone of his and his warning to keep Harry at arm’s length and even further away. Because then Liam thinks he maybe wouldn’t have taken the day away as a sort of rebellion against Daniel. Maybe things would have been different, Liam would have thought hey, this isn’t right, let’s not do this. And not, who cares if this isn’t right, Daniel does, but who else? Who cares what Daniel thinks, or the rest of the world?

Because Liam’s been working himself to countless of reasons why he let it go that far. Why he’s still tingling from the memory of it all, and lingering on the disappointment that Harry’s schedule is settled in this reality. Which is that they haven’t had much time at all to even so much as mention It, or talk about it.

That night, out of the lift and walking to Harry’s flat, Liam was left behind. Caution taken by Harry who’d been thoughtful in that split of second, because they were both certain Daniel would have been waiting behind that door. Liam’s not sure if that is how it went though, because Harry hasn’t been able to be caught since then, Harry’s been keeping to himself. Not saying anything more than morning and giving small smiles that never seem incline to going further than that.

Don’t get him wrong though, it’s not as if Liam expected hands holding and sneaking in dark corners to resume whatever had been happening that night and that went on in the lift. Not, not that. They used to talk alright. They’d chat during a drive to a set and they’d laugh when something happened during filming that amused Harry, they used to just be at ease together. Even if Liam was just standing by while Harry finished having breakfast, there was a comfort that came with, that felt lost this whole week.

It might from Daniel being around 24/7, which can add to how his anger is more felt than talked about. Daniel’s basically at every scheduled event now. Liam’s also heard from the others that it’s not just when Liam’s around, so that’s most likely one; to not let any suspicions arise, or two; Daniel wants to keep a close eye on Harry all the time and it’s nothing personal.

Even if it is. Because he might be present whenever they do a switch and no matter which bodyguards is present, but it doesn’t mean that he’s the same with all of them. With Liam, it’s as if Daniel is either his second shadow when Harry’s not around, or a wall plastered in between them. It’s harder to ignore that this is the reality of it when Daniel is around.

It’s harder for Liam to not think about the fact that Daniel’s not the wall, not at all. It’s the worlds that both he and Harry live in. They’re as contrasting as the burning point of a summer afternoon and the coming down of a winter evening. By the end of the entire week, Liam’s been pent up to this moment right here. Facing the punching bag of the old gym he used to visit before he signed a year contract to some sort of slavery.

It’s slavery to a lot of things and each time he hits, he keeps counting them in his head. Slavery to a schedule that no human being could ever live up to, slavery to a world that he’s only catching glimpses of without ever the promise that he’d ever even be a part of it, granted that is not a wish of his. Slavery most of all though, to fucking Harry Styles every damn day to the point that Liam’s shaken by the time he’s done with the punching bag.

No longer pent up, just spent, sweating and tired. He’s angry too, there’s a lot of it that’s running in his mind and the burn in his arms and on his knuckles, feel just like that. For the first time since Liam’s started boxing, he doesn’t feel it as relief, just a reminder that nothing’s been erased just because he’s dripping in sweat and aching.

Liam hurries down the shower with one bitter truth, which is that nothing can amount to whatever it is that he thought had even happened a week ago. That’s what he should stick to, nothing.

* * *

 

It’s not as if things magically get easy after that, it’s just that there’s no time to think about it. The movie filming is starting to see an end and it’s going on three days after the disastrous week. Liam just feels it like how things should be moving, not slow, not too fast, just regularly. It’s six months in now though, six and going to seven so he figures he will start getting back in touch with Mrs. Jane. He also figures, he might have been a tad bit dramatic in thinking everything over.

Of course, this was nothing, he’s the only one who worked himself up over something as simple as—playing around. Liam might not have seen it, but before he came into his life, Harry did have a reputation. Sure, thing that the media generally made rumours, but rumours tend to come out of a certain truth. No, Liam’s not just feeling bitter that he thought one thing and ended up being shown what he never thought about.

Or maybe just a little bit, he’s allowed to though, so he won’t even deny it or try to justify it. It’s just how he feels and that’s the end of it. Keeping it professional is a good idea, is the conclusion he’s reached now. It’s a peaceful treaty with himself and Harry’s silent treatment. See? Liam’s not eighteen anymore, hanging onto hopes and dreams, he’s twenty-five. Here’s what happened around that age, when one has had to give up on the things they want, the ugly truth is, they stop hoping real fast or wanting.

Instead they settle, compromise, put pros and cons and choose. That’s what this life has taught him. Integrity over selling out, values over money and more importantly, needs over want. Liam might want—and yes, Liam wants, he wants Harry. It’s another ugly truth, one he doesn’t linger on, or tries to. But Liam also knows what he needs, he needs to get rid of that, focus on the task, finish the rest of the months and then move on with his life.

He’s there in his thoughts when the door pushes open and Dylan enters, frowning at where Liam’s been waiting with an x-box controller in his head. FIFA is another way to cool down whenever he’s caught up in his thoughts. Dylan’s eyebrows furrow further when Liam arches his eyebrows at him after pausing his match.

“What?” Liam’s got to ask, he’s never seen the other guy look this—irritated. It’s an odd look on him. He always has this boyish sort of charm, kind of as if he’s constantly on the edge of being amused. Here he is though, looking not please with Liam and Liam has no idea why.

“What? Don’t throw that at me. Daniel, you and Harry honestly need to resolve whatever fucking threesome problem you have. This isn’t a healthy work environment.” There’s a huff and then Liam’s being pushed and the controller is being taken out of his hands.

Liam goes for a no comment option, rising and going for the door. He’s barely turning the knob when Dylan throws, “Fix it lover boy!”

Liam can’t help the fact that he closes the door with a bit of a slam to it. He just can’t, because it was that or barging back in the room to snap at Dylan about how there’s nothing to fix and that Liam’s not some sort of miracle workers. Nor does he intend to do anything at all, because he’s just not needed right now to do any of that shit and he’s not the one avoiding Harry, or not wanting to meet Harry’s eyes or putting up walls that he thought weren’t needed at all.

He’s not the one who’s fucking come to term that hey, know what, most of my relationships have been shit and this one right here is not what I would call my type but we’ve been kissing and it felt fucking amazing. Like world shaking experience and it felt fantastic until you know what? That same guy decided that maybe this wasn’t for him anymore.

Maybe Liam wasn’t for him and that’s fine, Liam’s not going to lie, a superstar and a nobody like him? Yeah, only in movies—and books. So, he opens the door to Harry’s flat with that look on his face, the one that he mostly reserves for his own mirror chats. One on One is a great therapy, recommended by an excellent therapist. Liam’s not crazy.

Except, what greets him is a Daniel who looks equally pissed and Harry’s back leaning looking taunt and pulled—basically, it seems like he just walked in on a dispute and that has Liam frowning. It takes all but two seconds before Harry’s turning to face him, it’s been a week and exactly three days and seven hours, Liam’s a bit crazy, he’ll admit, that he’s counted all of that.

But it’s been that long since Harry’s looked at him and Liam’s trying to not look like he’s suddenly feeling the hurt of it. The whole ignoring thing, the not talking thing, the not even a smile being thrown his way or an explanation. Hell, Harry could have been man enough to tell him that he didn’t want any of it, he was in a vulnerable state of mind. Liam would have bought it, it would have still hurt but he would have taken any explanation at this point.

It might have lessened the way he feels like shit—because Harry’s taking a good look at him and Liam’s doing the same too, hating how he can see Harry’s face fall for a second before picking itself back up.  Two seconds is what Liam feels it like, but really, it might have taken longer than that. Seeing as Harry had the time to get his jacket and get Liam’s wrist and tug them outside of the flat and Daniel had the time to yell Harry’s name down the hall, all the way to the lifts and then as the doors of said lift closed and he didn’t manage to stop them.

To stop Harry.

Which leaves Liam feeling like he’s been thrown in a time machine as the lift dings and keeps going down. Except that he’s now standing against the wall and Harry’s in front of him, a position reversed from the last time, but still the feeling of déjà vu is unsettling. It takes another ding of the lift for Liam to snap out of it and pull his wrist free from Harry’s hold.

“What the hell—” He meant to add Harry’s name, but it’s stolen by the man himself. Kind of hard to talk with lips pressing on his and Liam’s swallowing around the word, a gasp there and Harry’s mouth opens with it. It’s also a bit hard to resist. He tries once and twice, but knows himself that he’s barely even putting any strength in it. It’s because Harry’s hands are holding him right there, Liam reasons. His mind swinging with Harry’s breath against his cheek and the warmth that’s sizzling down his spine.

Harry’s palms on his face, tilting Liam’s head and Harry’s teeth sinking in his lower lip are the last things Liam’s registering right before he gives in with a soft moan. It’s echoed right back by Harry, almost like a relish of Liam’s capitulation. It shouldn’t be this hot, or thrilling, or make Liam press closer to Harry, Liam’s fingers gripping at Harry’s sides, the soft material of his jumper bunched in Liam’s fists.

The lift dings one last time but that’s not what pulls Liam back to reality, it’s the doors opening and the wind that rushes in. Even if Harry’s body is a shield to that, he still feels a shiver and then he hears a soft, “’m sorry.”

Liam starts shaking his head, pulling his hands from Harry’s side, pulling his body too. He wants out of here, he needs that chilly breeze that seems to be waiting in the car park. More than anything right now. He needs to clear his mind, stop breathing in Harry’s cologne, stop leaning into Harry’s hands. But his hands might grip at Harry’s wrists, they’re not tugging and he’s left looking at Harry. Harry with his eyes closed and his forehead pressed to Liam who keeps apologizing softly, then kissing Liam with less of a gentle press. It’s an intake then an exhale and Liam feels like he’s literally sinking each time Harry kisses him before pulling back and apologizing.

If this goes on—which it does and Liam just lets it happen—so it’s not if, it is and Liam’s falling pliant, leaning against the rail of the lift and waiting for Harry’s mouth whenever it comes back. He’s not sure of how long that goes on until Liam nods, simply that and Harry stops.

“Wanna take you somewhere.” Harry finally says after a few seconds of silence.  
Liam’s the one with his eyes closed now, feeling Harry’s eyes on him as he licks is lips, swollen heavy with Harry’s taste before he questions back, “Where?”

Harry shakes his head, Liam feels it against his forehead where Harry’s pressed, “Just say okay.”  
That draws a huff of a chuckle out of him, he’s laughing, he can’t believe it himself but here it is. Proof again that Harry must have some sort of magic tricks up his sleeves. It can’t be real, that Liam was ready to just keep to himself and all it took was what? Being subdued by apologizes and kisses and Harry sounding like he might have missed Liam as much as Liam did Harry.

Because fuck, Liam missed him. Being there, seeing and yet missing has got to be worse kind of longing one can go through. Liam knows, he’s been through it before. Just not with someone, but with something. Liam knows when he holds things this close, he never fucking lives up to see it get anywhere but down the drain. So many caution signs are glaring and alarms are going off in his mind and the frantic beat of his heart.

Still he nods, opens his eyes and hold onto Harry’s gaze, “Okay.”

* * *

 

Liam stumbles back onto a rooftop, the same way his laughter does from his throat. It’s just a missed step, a missed beat, not that much of a big deal. Harry balances him, fingers wrapped around his arm and he finds it ironic. That his job is to be the one who’s protecting, but he’s the one whose feet can’t even step one in front of the other without almost making him fall face first in the granite. The wind is more than welcomed. Harry drove them to this place and it’s helped, because for once Liam wasn’t behind the wheel thinking.

Rather, he was on the passenger side, dreading quite a few things. His lack of composure the past few minutes that went by in the lift, his lack of thought or processing what is happening before letting himself be taken in a car up to a fucking rooftop.

Which, “Why do you like these places so much?”

Harry gives him a shrug, it’s too cold for a summer weather and Harry looks snug and comfortable in just a jumper. Liam’s envious, because he’s feeling more than a bit chilly under the weigh of his own suit. One that he remembers thinking it would be a gruesome task to keep during the burning heat of the season, but he’d prefer being hot to cold anytime.

“I started doing it before I got signed, I would spend all my day outside on the streets, singing along with a band of people and we all just met, we didn’t know each other. We’d just practice for a few minutes then get down to it so that people could drop a few coins.” Harry pauses and turns around, he looks as if he’s not sure if he should go on. Liam wonders if he’s used to people not wanting to listen unless he tells them what he wants to hear because not to be presumptuous, but Harry looks like he’s a bit nervous to find Liam listening and not looking around, distracted. That Liam even knows what kind of face Harry makes when he’s surprised and nervous is only due to the amount of time he’s spent with him, not the time he spent watching Harry.

Or, if Liam wanted to stop trying to deny it, he might just admit that yeah, he’s been watching Harry more than required and has probably caught things he shouldn’t have. Like the nervous habit he has of frowning down at nothing before sniffing and then going on about what worries him while expecting whatever he says to be rebuked or rejected or laughed about. Although, that last bit is just an expression Liam’s used to seeing, or was used to seeing whenever he walked in his coach office ready to talk about why he didn’t want to lose a fight he knew he could win.

The silence lingers and Liam gives it time, because he doesn’t want to break the trail of Harry’s thoughts, wherever they’re leading him to now. He was telling a story and the least Liam can do is listen to it. Because Liam wants to and that’s why he’s even here isn’t it? Harry said, you’re the only one who looked like you wanted to protect me and Liam signed the contract. Harry said, you said this wasn’t a good idea but Liam kissed him, because he wanted to. Harry apologized, for reasons that may be many or nonexistent at all and Liam just silently took them in and accepted them, because he wanted to.

Three things are a bit much to caution for Liam, he’s not used to wanting and doing. It’s still settling within his meter of do not hope too much, do not ask for too much, do not always go for what you think you want. It’s weighing very heavily on that scale, tipping it to a point where Liam’s scared his own view will start blurring.

Harry resumes though, before Liam can frown and linger on those points, he resumes, voice light and Liam thinks there would be a blush if he could see, because nervousness with Harry comes with it. Right there, it would be on Harry’s cheeks, sliding down his neck. Because that’s how Harry flushes, it starts bright against his cheek then his whole face takes to the red before his nose gets a shade darker and then his neck and Liam’s been wondering how low before it stops.

That thought started when they were in the lift earlier.

“And well, at night I’d come here just to have less noise, it’s quiet and no one hears anything. The only sound you can catch sometimes, if the building’s not tall enough, is traffic.”

“So, a bit like a Zen spot.” Liam says, Harry laughs, it’s the only sound that’s breaking the quiet of the night.

“Kind of.” Harry nods along, he’s close to the edge by then. Liam remembers the first time this happened and Harry had found him ridiculous for thinking that the thrill of toppling over was what brought him here. Now, Liam knows why Harry did find that silent assumption ridiculous. There’s no way Harry isn’t content, at least enough that, it wouldn’t be silly to think of him wanting to end his life or even being thrilled by the prospect of an oncoming death.

The only time he looked contrite from Liam’s memory was when he talked about not being able to get a date, his own, outside of the media’s flashes. Not just any dates too, but dating men, like he’s been doing. That’s the only time Harry looked contrite by this life, for not being able to put that side of him to the light and Liam understands that. Most likely that if he had given in the temptation of a dream being fulfilled no matter what the consequences and how much of his own soul he could be selling, he would have lived with that same thought.

To be able to reveal to the world that he doesn’t enjoy any of this, having to hide some things to the public. A public that’s here to see something genuine, and keeps being lied to. Not all the time, Liam’s sure that some people make it out there without having to go through corruption, but he’s also sure that where there’s money, there’s power and there’s control and those who had the chance to must have been the true heroes. Unlike the plastic version of it that he feels he is right now.

The realisation hits him then, square in the face with the strength of a sharp gust of wind. Harry doesn’t need a hero, he is his own. He has his values set, he has his own wants filled, needs as well. Harry knows what he wants, who he is in this world, in the world of the media and in the world of the people around him who might be here for opportunities or not. Harry knows his place with his family, his friends. The few that Liam’s seen, although he can only count one that Harry talks to regularly without looking like he’s tasting sour lemon each time.

Heroes are needed to put back the lives of people who’ve lost it and Harry’s not lost, Liam’s the one hanging to a sinking buoy, knowing his life depends on it and yet unsure of what kind of life he’s even living. He sits next to Harry, feet dangling by the edge and Liam has the thrill, the one he nearly accused Harry of having.

Liam’s had it for years now, from the first morning after he left his coach and everything behind. From the first jogging day that he knew wouldn’t really amount to anything but the habit of doing it. Liam’s sought that thrill from then to that alley when he accidentally saved Harry’s life. That’s what it was too, an accident, a coincidence for Liam to have successfully done so. Because three guys against one is only one and one thing in the eyes of anyone who might be asked; suicide mission.

They could have had weapons, they could have been tougher to beat. Liam’s no Jackie Chan, he knows how to use his fists, big deal. He trained for kickboxing at one point and self-defense, even bigger deal. But if they had a knife or a gun, that night, Liam knows it would have been a done deal. Still he went, rushed there and tried to make it look like he was saving someone, playing hero.

But the truth is, Liam didn’t have any of those thoughts running in his mind. Liam forgot the first rule of fighting, before getting into one at least. Always clear your mind and do not stop thinking of how to get out of it winning. There wasn’t a thought given to that, it was the thrill, that’s what got him there. That dangerous tick that makes it seem as if life is nothing but a ticking bomb that will lead to the end of a tunnel.

At least, Liam remembers thinking one day, lying down in his bed, aching from two hours of training for nothing. At least, life might be worth ending tonight.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is soft, his hand covers Liam’s as if he can sense everything that’s having Liam bump his feet against the wall of the building. Steady rhythm, like the beat of his heart matching with the swing of his legs during a match. Liam’s hand can’t turn fast enough, his fingers can’t tangle with Harry’s fast enough either. His hold is tight but Harry’s wearing a smile, as if saying that it’s alright, it’s alright to want to jump, to have thought of it, to realise that he’s been living for this. “We can share this Zen spot.”

Liam’s throat tightens and he looks away, down at the lights of the cities. Tiny as they are from this distance and the cars and the crowd that walks by without a thought. His chest swells and his hold on Harry’s hand must be painful for his grip that won’t loosen, but Harry’s not letting go or protesting. Instead he leans in and his nose brushes against Liam’s cheek, Liam feels that chuckle more than hear it. Harry’s breath against his skin.

He wants to turn to it, but not with how his eyes start stinging. Liam brings a hand to his face, to cover that but Harry’s catching it before he can. Their balance is almost lost, it would have been if not for Harry leaning back and pulling Liam along with him. It’s not that much of a good idea, or a gentle fall. The ground is hard and Liam hear Harry wince because he takes the fall and catches Liam’s head on his arm.

Liam’s hiccupping though, blissfully unaware of anything but the amount of pressure that’s being pulled out from within him. Unsure of how, but grateful for the fact that Harry’s jumper is soft against his forehead even if also sorry for the fact that it’s getting soaked with Liam’s tears.

Liam’s sobs feel like the rough touch of his knuckles each time it hits and Harry, Harry holding him through it feels like the gentle shield of his boxing gloves. It’s a fight Liam’s been avoiding thinking about for five years. It’s the biggest lost match Liam’s ever had buried.

Five years’ worth of it, spilling and all he can do is be held through it.

* * *

 

It’s oddly quiet by the time Liam blinks his eyes open. He thinks that it’s because his own voice has fallen to nothing but silence, but then he’s pressing against whatever feels this soft against his cheek and frowning. He remembers it taking awhile before he calmed down, but that’s all he remembers. There’s a bit of a black out after that.

Liam feel exhausted too, as if a marathon had been braved by his entire body. But that must be from the hard ground beneath him even if what’s cushioning his head must be in more hardships than Liam himself. That’s when it starts coming back to him slowly and he’s pulling away just as slowly to look at his surroundings. He’s getting the same feeling he has after a few too many pints, trying to take it like Niall does but remembering too late that Niall’s never been without a pint in his life and so their endurance level will never be the same. Given that Liam was on a strict no alcohol diet for years.

Liam squirming seems to stir the body pressed to his, he knows now that it belongs to Harry. Wat he’s not sure of, is how long they’ve been here. Long enough though, for the sun to look clear and Liam to feel like his mouth might need a good brushing before he can trust himself to utter a word. But this deserves a million of them, shouted or anything. Birds are fucking chirping and it looks like the sun is starting to rise.

That’s what get Liam pushing against Harry’s hold. It might be warm and tight and most likely the reason why Liam fell asleep. Because it’s coming back to him like that now, he fell asleep and Harry didn’t bother waking him up so they could head back to the flat and not be in this position that’s going to have them aching everywhere. Especially Harry, who looks like his arm will be numb by the time Liam manages to shake him awake.

It’s amusing, that this is the first Liam’s doing this. Seeing Harry asleep, he’s used to only seeing the aftermath of Harry’s slumber. But here it is, Liam facing it with a pursed mouth, discomfort still there but forgotten for a few seconds of brushing his palms against the dry trails his tears have left. His voice feels hoarse to his own ears when he calls out Harry’s name, too feeble.

A great contrast to how lethargic Liam himself feels. He’s used to the contrary, his voice always holding him up and his entire body and mind screaming at the fraud of his timbre. Liam doesn’t let himself be shaken, simply because he can’t be shaken. It feels as if he’s gone through the earthquake already last night and right now is the aftermath of the disaster.

“Harry, wake up, or there’s going to be a lot of regret if you push it to later.” Even that, Liam’s saying it softly, his hands going to Harry’s sides and gripping, pushing against Harry’s jumper until he feels Harry’s body against his fingers. It seems like Harry’s a heavy sleeper, he’s blinking and Liam hears a hum but nothing else happens but Harry’s eyes remaining shut and his breathing evening again.

He wonders how Harry manages to pull out of his bed then. He does always look like it’s been quite the hardship each morning that Liam’s seen him. But right now, Liam will have the before forever stamped in is mind whenever he catches the after. He shakes Harry this time, with the hand he has on his side and it’s a groan this time and Harry shifting before rolling onto his back and then more groaning because of course it’s not the smooth surface of a mattress.

It’s got to hurt is what, Liam can’t hold it, he laughs. He rolls on his back too, but turns his head to find an eye peeked at him and Harry frowning without looking the least bit threatening.

“We slept on a rooftop, how more cliché can this get?”  
Harry doesn’t rise to the mocking bit in Liam’s question, instead he goes in his own direction. His voice soft and still laced with sleep around the slow pull of the words, “One thing off my bucket list.”

“You have a bucket list.” Why is Liam even surprised? This is Harry, of course he has a bucket list.  
“Yeah.”  
“And falling asleep on the hard surface of a building’s rooftop was part of that?” But still, that is one weird thing to want to cross off a list. It makes him wonder though, what other things Harry’s been doing and crossing off his list. Is it a mental list or a written one? When was this even put together? Does Harry plan how to cross every of them or are they spontaneously given wishes? So many things, but too little time.

Because Harry says, “With someone I like, yeah.” Which pauses everything else Liam has on his tongue. He purses his mouth instead, wonders why he feels like smiling and why it heats up his face that he feels like smiling. Harry’s eyes are still closed and Liam turns his own towards the fading grey of the sky.

“Someone you like.” Liam repeats, a bit stupidly.  
“Yeah.”  
“Like me,” Even more stupid, Liam clears his throat, wondering when he started losing his own words, “You like me?”

Harry’s eyes are opened now and Liam knows this because he’s caught staring. It’s hard to look away too despite the burn that he can feel across his face. It’s not as if it hasn’t been felt, right? As if these are words coming out of the blue, but it’s nice to hear it is what.

“Someone like you, yeah. I like you, Liam.”

Liam knows there’s a lot more to be solving. First, the reason why Daniel and Harry were arguing is a question lingering and needing answers, then what will Daniel even do about this if he figures it out which he might have figured it out. Then how to go back down the pair of the stairs of this building to let his feet touch earth again. And many, many more things to figure out.

It doesn’t stop it from sounding so easy when he says, “I like you too Harry.”  
The side of his face warm with the first ray of the sun, but Liam knows the warmest part of his body is from the pressure on his chest and where Harry’s gaze hasn’t looked away from his. Harry’s hand reaches then and Liam does the same when he catches the movement and let their fingers slide in between each other’s spaces. Then a few tingles as Harry’s thumb brushes against the back of his hand.

“Also, it’s been cliché from the moment you saved me in a dark alley.” Harry adds, with the same mocking tone Liam had in his own words earlier. It makes Liam laugh and Harry watch with a smile.

It makes Liam think, yeah, they can just float right above the earth and any other realities that exist beneath them right now. Liam can afford that. He feels like he can afford anything, he feels light as a feather as he shields his eyes from the sunrise and waits for when he’s got to land—or crash.

 


End file.
